Bloodied Black Lily
by Red Cookies
Summary: Grell finally gains Sebastian's love, but what happens when William confesses to Grell that he loves him? Will he be forced to choose between the two? Complications will arise in this love triangle. Sebby/Grell, Will/Grell. Warning for future chapters. (Hiatus until further notice)
1. Prologue

**Summary, Part One**: Grell finally gained Sebastian's love, but what happens when William confesses to Grell that he loves him? Will he be forced to choose between the two? Complications will arise in this love triangle. Sebby/Grell, Will/Grell -Warning for future chapters-

_This story is divided into two parts. The Second Part begins in chapter 15._

_Fair to warn, I follow the Mangaverse, not the anime._

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><p><em>Prologue<em>

_Such is the twisted fate of a love-stuck fool._

Today was going to be a boring one for Grell Sutcliff. There were reports to sign, files to arrange, and nails to file. And his number one priority was the current manicure he was giving himself in favor of ignoring papers. Forget the documents, these red-painted fingertips needed pampering!

It was Monday, and that meant William was out reaping souls. And if William was out reaping his assigned souls, the redheaded shinigami couldn't walk into his office and plant his little feminine rear on the nice wooden desk just to annoy his boss.

He could still go there and sit on his desk, but it wouldn't be the same.

And, well, Grell didn't do it to annoy him, per se, but to remind Will that he was _alive_.

That man was capable of forgetting Grell existed for convenience –and getting rid of a pounding headache–. For all his glorious worth, William found him a pain most of the time, and that depressing thought reminded Grell that his affections, no matter how friendly (or lewd) they may be, they would probably never be returned.

Oh, his unrequired love was just that, unrequired.

_How is it possible he's still resisting my charms_? Grell pondered for a moment as he continued to file his shining nails, heeled feet over his small desk, _Unless we've known each other for so long…I'm trapped in the__—_

_Friend Zone._

Shudders ran down his spine just thinking about the words. The "Friend Zone", as he liked to name it, merely meant that the other person could only think of him as a friend, and anything more would be inappropriate or awkward. There had to be another explanation for William to reject him, but it appeared as if it was the only one at the moment, and _that_ wasn't good. For him.

Grell worked hard and long to earn his superior's love, without results, but still. Thoughts count too. At times he would just flirt; at times he would speak from the heart…

_Does Will think I'm always playing around…? _

The beautiful transvestite huffed at the idea. He'd told him dozens of times that he loved him, the first few times a bit ungracefully, too. _Did he think I was joking?_

That last question left him thinking long and hard.

Could that be it? A misunderstanding?

After grasping the concept that William might have tricked himself into believing Grell wasn't serious, he felt almost immediately undignified, taken aback and even cheated. Most of all, he felt a pang of sadness in his heart. It served to remind him of the fact that every one of his coworkers thought this way. They all took his feelings lightly. They all took his actions lightly. Hell, everyone took _him_ lightly, and that made the mercurial being _very_ angry.

But before the rage could build and burst in tendrils, he was distracted and startled by the sound of a loud chime. Absentmindedly, Grell searched in his trousers and brought out his pocket watch.

Six o'clock, the time for the reaper to punch out.

All thoughts of anger forgotten, he stood and promptly left his desk for home. Along his way to exit the building however, Grell realized that William was still out reaping and, with some small consideration, headed back with a smug familiar grin over his features.

* * *

><p>Mr. Spears, as he preferred to be addressed as, entered the Dispatch Department with an exhausted expression. He alone reaped a total of seventy-one average human souls, all of which took a total of seven hours to kick the bucket. The man was tired, his neck was sore and the grumbling in his abdomen told him he was hungry. He hadn't eaten lunch during the day, and just remembering was enough to send a spike of twists in his abdomen as punishment.<p>

William hurried to his office despite the ache so he could finally put the stamped files in his working space. He would finish reviewing them tomorrow, right now, he needed to go home to enjoy a nice dinner.

It is keenly important to note William T. Spears hated overtime.

As he reached the door to his office with his hand, grumbling obscenities under his breath, he was caught by surprise from behind. A couple of arms wrapped around his waist in a deadlock, startling him. His reaction was all instinct. Files dropped to the floor as he summoned his Deathscythe and swiftly turned –still in the cornering embrace– and thrust it down sharply on the offender to save himself from whatever attack this was—

"W-Will, it's just m-me!" Grell squeaked out in time, the deathscythe stopping mere centimeters from his face. A single beat of cold sweat rolled down his face at the sight of the sheers and the redhead almost fainted.

Retracting the weapon, William's eyebrows furrowed. "Sutcliff, what are you doing here? It's already an hour past your shift's end," he stated gruffly, watching the pale reaper.

Grell could sense the man was irritated beyond feeling sympathy, after all he almost pierced a hole right through him. Taking a moment to clear his throat, Grell spoke in a soft careful voice. "W-well, I thought you were taking a long time, so I stayed behind to make sure you came back in one piece…" he paused looking down on the scattered papers on the marble floor, and pouted, "…sorry about that."

William pulled roughly out of the other's hug to unsummon his deathscythe and bent down on one knee to pick his work papers, "It's fine, I appreciate your consideration," came with an indifferent tone.

Truthfully the man did, even though the words came out sternly. It was hard for William to express himself openly, or show _any_ emotion for that matter.

Feeling that his boss was in a better mood than before, Grell bent down to help him reorganize the papers back in the file. "I see you had a lot of work today," he gave Will a kind smile as he spoke calmly.

William's eyes widened for an instant but quickly reverted back, too fast for Grell to notice. He very rarely got a real smile out of the redhead, it surprised him to see one now.

Smiles were just such a fitting look on Grell's face, an honest face. This one smile was small but sweet. It was…pretty.

Wait…_pretty?_

_Did I really just think that?_

"Wi~ll? Are you there~?" he winced as Grell whistled too close to his ear.

"Argh! Sutcliff!" William clutched his ears, ringing with a high pitch. It was aggravating him. "You didn't need to do that!" After such a hard day of work, he needed to unwind, and noises do **not** relax him.

They do quite the opposite; loud noises tense him up.

"S-sorry, but it's just that you froze for about a minute there… Are you sure you're alright?" Grell asked with an apologetic look as he stood, most of the papers that fell previously now firmly grasped in his hands.

"…I'm fine, just tired." Grell offered a hand for William, who took it with a sigh and straightened up.

Judging by the amount of papers, Grell could tell William had a full day, and knowing him, the redheaded reaper was sure that his Will wanted nothing more than to go home and rest already. He understood more than anyone how troublesome and _boring_ doing paperwork was, much more for Will, since he was the Supervisor of the Dispatch Division, meaning he had to basically recite the rules at least once a day to a newbie, revise and review all of the papers and assignments related to collected souls, and if anything went wrong, he would be fully responsible for any incompetence.

Grell took it upon himself to cheer him up sometimes, and give a little _pizzazz_ to that boring, stressing and plain lifestyle. Well, _Grell_ found it **extremely** _boring_ and _plain_…he didn't really know if William liked his job, or if he felt forced to do it.

It just _had_ to be boring.

There was a little devilish grin creeping over the redhead's face over an impulsive idea. He was still considering it when he started speaking, but it was just too perfect. He _had _to.

"Are you sure you're alright? You look a little feverish~." With guts no one in the department had, Grell cheerfully poked the taller man's nose, like one would to a _child_, before tiptoeing –with his stiletto heels, mind you– to press his forehead against William's. "You feel hot~."

There was a _tch_ sound echoing and a push at his shoulder before William spoke again, cheeks tinted a light pink, "Shouldn't you be _leaving_ now?"

Taking notice that his superior changed the topic, the shorter shinigami achieved what he wanted and sang with victory in his head. Grell grinned so widely, it would challenge even the Cheshire cat, that or send terrified humans running.

He always knew just how to push William's buttons; this time, he pressed the _why-are-you-so-embarrassing_ button. There were others he could have pushed, but that was his favorite.

"So should _you_, love." Grell emphasized by pointing at the man, who shrugged him off by taking his papers and turned to open his office, disappearing in the dark room. Grell heard a few cabinets shuttering and soon saw William exit his office, giving him a poignant look that clearly said _what are you still doing here_. "Oh, _fine_," he rolled his eyes, "It's high time I leave anyway."

Turning on his heels, he sounded a huff and began to trot away. But, he didn't take too many steps before he stopped and said something, a bit too far and low for William to hear.

"What?"

"I said I love you and I always will, Will! Idiot!" The redhead yelled as he walked out even _more _bristled with a wave of hands.

The words Grell said were true, even if sometimes he wished to forget those feelings. But it was evident that he would never stop loving his raven-haired superior, no matter how many years pass, or if William never returned his feelings. There would always be a place in his heart for that stupid, emotionless man.

He didn't know William _did_ love him.

"…I know," William said in a whisper, knowing the retreating redhead wouldn't hear him. Wishing he did, though.

_The idiot part wasn't necessary though…_

* * *

><p>Finally home, Grell flopped gracelessly onto his bed, the only clothing over his body being a silky robe. Red, of course. He stretched lazily on the soft bed, wrapping the cotton sheets over his body. Sleep was fast approaching, and Grell welcomed the bodily function drowsily.<p>

He hoped to dream about a certain romantic Romeo.

_Ah~, such handsome features. Such a cold, collected appearance. And most of all, such a fruitless conquest! Well…it isn't fruitless anymore~. _

His only window to the darling gentleman –if he could address him like that– was his dreams, where the infatuated shinigami could see him whenever he wanted.

But even that wasn't enough, Grell needed the real thing!

_To_ _dream_ and _to_ _feel_ are two very different actions, yet they could become alike at times. While in the world of dreams, reality is masked and hidden, a confusing topic. Many times has Grell entered this state for that reason, a personal place where everything is and always will be possible. Oh, how many stories and fantasies have run through his mind while sleeping? Certainly hundreds, perhaps thousands. But sadly, a dream is just a dream, and a dream has to end sometime.

The worst part.

Still, as long as the dream lasts, it will be enjoyed to the fullest. Anything could happen, something the redhead could enjoy. And with some luck, maybe someday, a dream will come true, although it was very unlikely. But against all odds, –and the odds were _astronomical_– it happened to him, a dream _did_ come true; he got what he always wanted. He fell in love, and that person loved him back. And dreaming about him would only make Grell miss him; it made him impatient; it made him want him more…

_Aah, Absence makes the heart grow fonder._

But he couldn't just _not_ dream about him either.

So alluring, so enchanting, so forbidden… like a moth to a flame.

A very _sexy_ flame.

_I can't wait to see my Sebastian~!_

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><p><em>AN: Feel free to Review! Those little words mean a lot to me. And don't be afraid to criticize._

_Also, this is a standalone sequel to my fanfic "Red Rose" (more like inspired follow-up), so it's not necessary to read it. :)_


	2. Compromise and Reunions

_Warning: Rated M for a reason (sexual themes, mild language, violence, yaoi, etcetera) _

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, that blissful right belongs to Yana Toboso.

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><p>"Ah, what a nice breeze."<p>

A lone figure stood above the streets below, tilting its head high; smooth, crimson locks dancing in the light wind. Winter was long over, and the month of May was slowly ending, taking with it the cool air and opening the curtains for the long, hot days of summer. The humans down below kept walking; they had such short lives, such fascinating creatures. Such ignorant creatures too, not noticing the Angel of Death watching over them. Said being was enjoying the view from the tall building's ceiling, the sun shining bright just above the shinigami. It was no ordinary shinigami; no other like its kind.

Grell Sutcliff was trying his best to concentrate on his given duty: reaping the soul of a Martha Florence Jones, who should be deceased in approximately five minutes, at the age of twenty. 'Trying' is the keyword, since Grell was not known for his ability to stand still, much less doing _work_. But it was a special day, and a very important one; the redheaded reaper had to try his best. He pulled a pocket watch from his vest, examining the time.

1:36 p.m.

_Three more minutes…_ Watching the distant human beings below proved to be no entertainment to pass the time. No attractive faces to fawn over, no scandal in the streets, no young ladies wearing beautiful dresses to envy. Nothing interesting for an immortal being.

A door below flickered open, "Oh, _finally_, there she is," Grell noticed as he stared at one single figure standing out from the other _boring_, plain ones. It was the young Martha, and this lady was truly very alluring and dazzling; a composed, elegant gait, very extravagant clothes, complemented by a fan held in her delicate fingers, helping to hide her delightful face. Blond strands of her long hair blew around in the soft wind as she began to walk along the sidewalk. It was a shame, such a respectable woman having to die on such a wondrous day; still, work was work, and she was just another soul meant to perish today. The effeminate shinigami hopped down from his post, down to another rooftop much closer to the ground. Following the soon-to-be-deceased gal, he came at a stop at the intersection of two roads where she would ultimately die.

The noblewoman saw an acquaintance of hers at the other end of the street and, like a switch, she changed completely from aristocratic and frigid, to an ecstatic and lively girl. Grell was puzzled at the young woman's transition, but soon he saw the cause. The handsome young man across the road was just as overjoyed as she was, and waved in her direction. It must have been her husband, the love of her life, right on the other side of the cobblestone road. She lifted her long ruffled skirt and picked up her pace toward the man, who stopped just at the end of the footpath. A smile crept up over the shinigami's lips.

_Ah~, young love._

She raced across the road to reach the gentleman, but failed to notice a horse carriage appear, too fast to stop, too close to dodge. The carriage driver was unable to control the horses in their fright; they trampled over her body mercilessly, cries of pain emitting from her sweet lips. The poor sweetheart's husband rushing to her fallen body, frantic and panicking, cursed seeing her condition. All the people around stopped at the scene, but stayed in their place, worried looks written over their faces but no thought to assist in mind. Small frightened children hid behind their parents, questioning, not knowing death or its cold, painful grip. Most of the men and women present knew those accidents were common place in the area; they also knew most victims of the carriage accidents would not live long, the blood loss and lacerations ending the unfortunate individual's life.

Even the trampled lady knew she would die then and there, searing pain surging through her, but her husband refused to acknowledge it. The spouse lifted her torso and cried out at her, saying how the madam was foolish and stupid to do such a dangerous thing; recollecting how she was always so childish, so daring and impulsive; shouting that if she died right then, he would never forgive her; screaming at the top of his lungs how he didn't want her to die as tears streamed down his cheeks, how he wanted more time with his dear 'Florie'.

Revving his Deathscythe, the shinigami drove it through the convulsing darling, admiring how the blood from the wheel's gash in her waist poured out in consequence. No one sees the reaper despite this; humans could only see the sorrowful young man holding his dying wife, run through her middle by the carriage, blood now staining her magnificent dress like a paintbrush to a white canvas. Tears ran down her eyes as a numbing feeling clouded her pained senses. She saw 'life flash before her eyes' and turned to the man cradling her broken body, jaw slightly slack. The world began to fade.

"George…I'm sorry…"

With that, she released her last breath and expired, leaving the mourning gent holding her now-lifeless corpse to weep.

Grell hung the bloody chainsaw deathscythe over his shoulder and continued his walk to collect the next soul on his list. Just as he was about to jump to a rooftop, he turned to give a last look at the hapless bunch around the painted missus in the streets.

'_Twas a shame, such a nice couple broken apart by death, _he thought at the sight.

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><p>"<em>Will<em>~," an ecstatically shrill voice called out, "I'm done!"

The redheaded reaper took an empty seat and eagerly handed over the reports of the reaped souls to his superior, William T. Spears. They were both in William's large office, which contained a spacious dark wooden desk and filing cabinets at the back. Two seats, laid face-to-face with the wooden desk in between, were occupied by the two mentioned reapers. In the more comfortable chair was, naturally, Will.

Looking up from the many forms on the desk, William took the file containing the papers from Grell with a sigh and flipped it open, examining the contents. A couple of minutes later, the strict boss closed the file and placed it next to the noticeably large stack of signed papers placed at his right. Heeled shoes tapped the marble floor as the crimson-haired reaper became impatient.

"Alright, it's acceptable…" William said as he lifted his head to face the redhead, "…or as acceptable as it can get from you." He then returned to the papers he was triple-checking.

"So…does that mean what I think it means?" A bright, sharp-toothed smile formed in Grell's lips as he spoke.

"…Yes," the supervisor stopped his work and stood up, "You can take a day off tomorrow." Grell beamed upon hearing the words spill from the taller man's lips. William just picked up the huge stack of finished reports and walked over to place them inside the cabinet as meticulously as possible.

"_Oh_, thank you so much, Will! I promise not to cause any problems for you~."

Turning around to face the cheery shinigami, William lifted his right hand and adjusted his frames. "As it should be, and if I hear otherwise, you will not have another day of relaxation in your immortal life." He spoke with a monotone, serious voice.

William had become accustomed to rejecting the ginger's requests, but this particular one promised a job well done from Sutcliff, which was _highly_ unusual.

Last winter, the enthusiastic redhead made a deal with William to have a day off once a month, and in return, he would work hard to turn in his assignments in time and cause less trouble for his fellow coworkers. And for the last six months it had been so; although the occasional transvestite's spurs would still be present, overall Grell fulfilled his end of the deal, mysterious as it had been begun. William couldn't help but wonder why the eccentric shinigami even asked for such a thing. After all, Grell wasn't known for following rules, or even paying attention to them, but he refused to speak up. If workflow was well, there was no need to worry.

"Then I'll take my leave, Will darling!" Grell gleefully spoke and stood, skipping along his way over to William…and gave him a quick peck on the lips before turning to run away, _fast_. "Stay cold!"

He couldn't even react to the unexpected action, and watched the other flee afterward. It was usual behavior, and William became used to it…although Grell didn't seem to do so as often ever since his preposition for days off. This bothered William, and being bothered about Grell's change in behavior bothered him even _more_.

Truthfully, as the years passed, Grell slowly carved a path into his frozen heart and stayed there, refusing to leave until he gained William's love. The emotionless figure would have never allowed it, but somehow, it happened. William _did_ have feelings for Grell, feelings that kept growing as time kept passing, even as he kept denying it. He found himself caring for the ever-so-perky reaper deeply, and now frequently worried over his mischievous antics that would be considered dangerous, like, for example, messing with _demons_.

He would act as his usual composed –in other words, _stone-cold_– self though, always refusing to reveal this to anyone, not in the slightest way. Grell didn't know, and he wanted it to stay like that.

If the hyperactive shinigami practically _gave_ himself up for grabs with awkward situations and suggestive poses (only to William, though, he wasn't some desperate whore, like most of the coworkers thought because of his personality), imagining what he would do after knowing William wanted him only served to give the hardworking reaper a headache at the thoughts, and an awkward pool of heat to form in his core. But seeing Grell step back made him want the redhead to get closer.

William felt a migraine begin to form as he thought of the irony that started to play between the two.

If this kept going, he would have to face his feelings soon.

* * *

><p>The flamboyant shinigami rushed out from the Shinigami realm via portal into the lively city of London for the third time that day, a desperate look written all over his face. Grell hoped over countless rooftops as he searched, searched for a lone dark figure that <em>always<em> stood out for him, even in a crowded road…while wearing a _disguise_.

He glanced down at familiar paths and alleyways, but failed to find him. For a moment Grell conjured up the thought that maybe the man forgot, or that he was kept busy and overworked, like usual. The thought quickly left his mind as he remembered that they agreed to meet up somewhere more tranquil, more serene, away from judging and recognizing eyes. But they didn't even name the place.

_A game of hide-and-seek? He was always the type to make things more interesting…_ The crimson-haired shinigami pondered as he tried to guess where _he_ could be…

He suddenly jolted his head up, and slowly formed his iconic, crazed smile, baring dangerous-looking teeth. The perfect place popped up into his mind.

Grell sped out of the populated city to the north, leaving behind the tall buildings and the disturbing smell of horses and humans lingering in the streets. Soon, the surroundings became more and more green, the trees standing around to cover him from the outside world. As he fast approached the location named in his mind, he came to realize the sun was setting slowly over the horizon. He shook his head in disapproval. It was getting late.

"Oh well," Grell told himself, "The day may be ending, but the night is just beginning!"

The shinigami perked up as a hilltop void of trees came into view while he ran forward. He gazed around and saw the lone shaded figure lying in the grassy ground with a basket barely hidden next to him, basking in the fading light of the sun.

Grell halted abruptly, feet numb. He ran too fast for a long period of time in the rush of things, apparently. But, here he was, currently in front of his dearest love who looked up at him with mild amusement in his red eyes.

"You're a little late, Grell." The man opened the picnic basket to pull out a bottle of red wine, "Now you won't get any of this exquisite liquor."

The redhead instantly pouted as he fell melodramatically over the well-dressed man's lap. "But I was just _soooo_ busy! I did my very best to come here as fast as I could, too, _Sebby!_ So mean~." Grell was lightly tugged off of the other's legs.

Sebastian was dressed similarly to his usual butler attire, a black bowtie around his collar instead of his long tie, and his left bangs were pulled up behind his ear nicely. Grell sat up next to Sebastian and gave him a sly look. "Is something the matter?" the raven-haired demon questioned. He quirked an eyebrow at the expression the sitting reaper wore over his face.

"Oh, _nothing_. Just thinking about how _sexy_ you look in the twilight, that's all, I hardly get to stare at you like this," Grell stated rather bashfully. Fidgeting, Grell looked over his shoulder and saw Sebastian take two empty glasses and hand him one.

Taking the presented glass, he saw the handsome butler pour him some of the red liquid. "For that, you may have some of this wine," he said with a smirk. Grell giggled softly at his simple prize before bringing it to his lips. The man was always so simple and…perfect. His date with his beloved Sebastian was advancing _perfectly_ well, and the sun had only just sunk under the horizon. He had to enjoy the remaining day to the fullest, tomorrow being his once-a-month date with Sebastian.

Yes, the day of the month they both arranged to meet together like this, a secret from everyone else. Except for Ciel and the Undertaker, of course (that old fuddy-duddy knows everything).

Sebastian tipped the glass he prepared for himself and took a small sip. "If I may ask, did it take you some time to figure out my location?"

"Only for a minute, my _Romeo_." He exchanged looks with Sebastian with that last word, "But I should have known you would come to Primrose Hill. It's so _fresh_ out here, and the view of London is very _nice_."

Indeed, the view was relaxing.

Grell scooted closer while Sebastian took another tentative sip of wine. "Sebas-chan, do you like the drink?" Grell took a stray strand of his own hair to play with it, "I mean, I know demons don't have the same tastes as humans and us reapers…"

The butler smirked at the comment. "Yes, that is true, but does it matter?"

"Well, you don't have to drink it," Grell murmured, "I wouldn't want for you to feel obliged to join me."

The answer made Sebastian's smirk grow wider. The reaper was always so considerate when it came to the silly little things, but that was one of the quirks he enjoyed: that little-known shy side of Grell.

"Then if I say I _want_ to drink it, will you allow me?" he paused to contemplate Grell's blushing face, "Yes? Then I'll continue."

Pouting slightly, Grell took the glass from Sebastian's hand. "No."

He dared to glare at the butler before gulping down his throat what wine was left of Sebastian's cup, some red droplets spilling down his chin.

The demon furrowed his eyebrows, disapproving the manners. "Must I punish your bad etiquette? Being the lady you so proclaim to be, I expected more from you." Sebastian placed the wine bottle back in its place inside the straw picnic basket before reaching into his suit's inner pocket and revealing a white handkerchief to clean Grell's chin.

"Hmm, punishment sounds fair~," he spoke with a playful tone as Sebastian finished wiping clean his face like a parent would to a sloppy child. Grell quickly stood up and sat back down between Sebastian's outstretched legs, his back against the butler's chest. "What should my _punishment_ be then?"

He formed yet another intimidating smirk, "For someone like you…" he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to the flustered redhead's ear, "I would…" whispering, "head back to my master, alone."

And then, in that instant, Grell lost the touch entirely. The body that was behind him was now trotting down the hill, calmly, as Grell's eyes went wide and he stuttered to make words. "Sebas-chan! W-wait!" He jerked up to catch up to the other. _What the__— __Such a big fuss over manners…_

If only he could see the utter mirth written over Sebastian's face. Oh, how he adored exploring the shinigami's reactions, teasing; they were just so lovely and…well, amusing.

Holding back his noticeable joy, Sebastian added, "Have you forgotten?" Still looking forward and keeping a fast pace over the forest, he spoke again, "The young master is hosting a ball for the starting summer in the mansion."

Grell's rage subsided at the word 'ball'.

"A ball?" A glimmer showed in his eyes, "Am I invited?" Grell squealed at the thought of being in such an event. He hasn't been to a dance in such a long time, he might have forgotten how to.

With half lidded eyes, the butler tilted his head and answered, "Yes, you are, Grell, and I suggest you make preparations as soon―"

"I'll see you there, Sebby!" Grell interrupted, almost on purpose. He then sped past him and disappeared from sight, leaving Sebastian behind.

"…as possible."

The man clad in black could only sigh at the spur of energy from Grell and continued his way back to the mansion. The preparations were already made before he left to meet the reaper, but having the three incompetent servants there was very uneasy for him.

Sadly, the picnic was left forgotten in the hilltop.

* * *

><p>The night sky was clear as the expected guests stepped out of their horse carriages in front of the Phantomhive mansion. The number of nobles invited was generously small (one has to remember the Earl Phantomhive dislikes these events) but the mansion was festive and everyone was in high spirits. The mansion's ballroom was elegantly decorated with an ocean theme, welcoming the arriving summer months. Thick and thin streamers of light blue and amber color hung at the ceiling's junction with the walls and the large room's columns; white ribbons and strips were placed over the golden walls here and there, the large sash windows remained closed and the red curtains over them were slightly pulled open to show the outside. There was a large circular pattern etched into the floor, and just above it hung a crystal chandelier.<p>

Sebastian was warmly greeting the high-class nobles in the entryway of the mansion as the other servants of the other families helped their masters and mistresses out their carriages. All the male guests dressed in black tie attire, a formal dress code, while the women were in a vast array, from cocktail dresses to ball gowns, from soft cream colors to bright, vivid hues of reds, blues and purples. Ciel was accompanying Elizabeth, who was sporting a lovely red dress with white ribbons tied along the ruffled edges of the dress. Her hair was tied with the usual curled ponytails with red ribbons holding them. She had silk gloves on and was wearing low-heeled red heels, a big warm smile formed on her blush powdered face.

The young earl himself was wearing a navy-colored long jacket, a white vest and button shirt beneath with short navy trousers and knee-high silk socks. All coupled by a large red ribbon tied around his neck to match Lizzy's ribbons and black heeled boots, and everything had been happily picked out by his fiancée for him to wear.

Almost all the guests had arrived to the party when a one-horse carriage rolled to the front. Sebastian, who was now dressed as per usual, opened the door for those inside to exit. It surprised him to see who was there, or more clearly, what the person was wearing.

"Welcome to the Phantomhives, honored guest."

Inside the mansion, Ciel was busy welcoming everyone into his home, greeting them and having petty chats. Lizzy had left him for a few minutes because she saw ladies wearing 'positively adorable' dresses she just _had_ to size up, which gave the earl a small bit of relief for his arms from her strangling grips.

While searching for Sebastian, he noticed the famous Viscount Druitt out of the corner of his eye, fawning over some young women and heading in Ciel's direction. Still embarrassed over the man's infatuation with his alter –woman– ego, Ciel avoided him by busting into a crowd of adult women whose dresses were frilly and puffy enough to hide him. For once, he praised the fact that he was short as he saw the Viscount walk along and away, following one of the ladies.

Excusing himself for interrupting their gossip, Ciel once again began searching for his butler, until he accidentally bumped into one of the guests.

"M-my apologies, miss," he bowed in apology and glanced at the feminine figure before him, not recognizing the lady. Then again, her face was covered by a black veil. "Welcome to my home."

She was wearing a deep red evening gown, reaching the floor with a ruffled hem, very delicately trimmed; it was cut off the shoulders with equally red gloves almost reaching the elbow and tight around the waist, which showed the lady's bust was _quite_ small –it made the young earl wonder if she was actually very young–, but the dress widened out below the hips. It looked quite breezy and comfortable, actually. And not at all appropriate around nobility.

Staring deeper, the earl noticed the lady had long bright red hair pooling down her shoulders and hanging around the thighs, looking a tad bit familiar…

"Why thank you, my lord," she spoke with a soft tone. The miss raised her gloved hands, admiring the surroundings. It sounded feminine, but not entirely for Ciel. "And I must say, what a lovely dance this is, Earl."

Ciel takes the other's hand in a curtsy fashion and plants a kiss on the hand kindly, "As the master of this household, it is my duty to make this the best it can be, miss…"

She giggled softly and bowed, raising her skirt in a curtsy, "Oh, I didn't introduce myself properly, forgive me," she lifted her veil only to show a smirk, "Miss―"

"_Mister_ Sutcliff, I should've realized," Ciel interrupted, seeing that the other showed his unique sharp-toothed smile, "But I must admit you're _very_ good at blending in, when you want to."

"Ah, no need to flatter me, _little earl_, but now that you know I'm here, there's no need to blend with these bland people," Grell removed the thin veil over his head and tossed it aside, revealing his shark-like grin to any eyes on him, "And _please_, call me miss, like you were before."

"_Before_, I didn't know who you were." Ciel grimaced as he spoke, recalling his earlier words to Grell.

"Oh, you're no _fun_," he commented after seeing the young boy's face. Taking a glance at the crowd, Grell saw music starting to play and couples beginning to dance, "Now if you excuse me, this lady will go waltz with her gentleman."

He then left the young Phantomhive and maneuvered around the crowd of people to search for Sebastian, which only reminded Ciel that _he_ was searching for Sebastian in the first place, but gave up on the attempt. Ciel would tell his butler to fix the bow around his neck later.

Glancing at the disappearing redhead, Ciel felt a little pity for the madman for falling in love with such an…_individual_ like Sebastian –him and his perfectionist/sadistic tendencies–, but maybe that's Grell's cup of tea. The child will always have a strong dislike for that oddball, not just because he was the deranged murderer of his aunt. Of course, he forgot about him entirely after Lizzy sneaked up on him from behind, scaring the color right out of him.

In the meantime, Grell got lost in the blanket of pointless, snobby conversation starting around him, the _tap-tap-tap_ of high heeled shoes on the hardwood flooring, and the paring couples going about to dance to the music, all banning together to bring him a headache. Although, the soothing sound of a small orchestra playing close by gave him a nostalgic sentiment amidst the ordered chaos.

The status gossip mixed with the occasional push-and-shove tickled his brain in a _very_ annoying way, nonetheless. Still, Grell loved high-class balls; dancing with the person he loved the most and having to spend time with them. It's just that for him, everything before and after was plainly meaningless. The talking was meaningless, the crowds were meaningless, the food was meaningless…the only thing that mattered was the music and dancing, everyone else could just disappear, and he could make _that_ fantasy a reality. He just wanted to meet his dear smirking knight clad in black and get away from the world.

As Grell came to a stop somewhat far from the dancing crowd, his feet cramped up.

_I really shouldn't have worn these heels,_ Grell thought on the moment with a frown etched on his face. They were new and wrapped straps over the ankle, so they dug into his skin with all the walking. Bending down to fix the offending strap, he lost his balance when a sharp pain shivered up his spine and accidentally bumped onto someone, who gratefully held his bare shoulders.

"My, my, someone's having trouble standing still." A voice sounded just above Grell's ear. For some reason, the deep, velvety tone of those words made his body quake involuntarily. He turned up to look into the captor's face.

Sebastian Michaelis. _Ah, what a sight._

"_Well_, I have been waiting for you ever since I went through the front door!" the redhead said with a pouty face, "You may have welcomed me, but you never told me what you were so busy doing…" Sebastian bent down on one knee and lifted the dress's skirt just to reveal the marked, pained feet hidden underneath, "H-hey, Sebas-chan?"

Sebastian made a sound of disapproval after examining, "If I may say, please remove your footwear, it is straining your ankles harshly," he saw the shinigami's face flush red accompanied by a scowl. "Or, if you are unable to, then I shall take care of that."

"B-but Sebby, I can't just walk around without them― _Aah~_."

The redhead felt Sebastian already raise his leg and remove one of his heels, which was a _hell_ of a lot better than having them on. After removing the other pair, slightly caressing the bruised skin, the butler stood and stepped back with the red heels in hand and discreetly placed them behind one column. Grell descended, planting his soles flat against the floor, cooling and relieving them. The cool touch made his toes squirm.

He had to admit, it was nicer on his feet to be down on the ground.

"Now, doesn't that feel much better, Grell?" Sebastian bowed to face Grell, considering the heels he was previously wearing added three whole inches and he was now much shorter, "Besides, no one will notice since your enchanting dress covers your legs entirely."

"…Fine," the redhead finished with a grunt.

The sound of soft music being played filled the air as Grell felt a little shame being so petite, but the thought died quickly after processing that Sebastian was a _smidgen_ too close, and his cheeks deepened in color once more.

Arching a brow to the redhead's burning face, Sebastian took one step back to straighten himself up. He held Grell's right hand with his left while his other hand snaked around the shinigami's waist. Grell, on the other hand, jerked upwards at the unexpected touches as his face contorted into one of surprise.

"Whatever is the matter, Grell? Didn't you wish to have a dance with me?" Sebastian spoke with an almost hurt expression. Of course he was just acting appropriate to the moment. Internally, Sebastian was enjoying every bit of the reaper's unnerved reactions, but the questions he asked were truly of pure curiosity. There was always some regard as to why Grell would be so straightforward and confident with him in every occasion, except when he reacted to the redhead's behavior in kind. He thought it was what the other would want. After all, one seduces expecting the person to be seduced, unless the rules changed without even a demon knowing.

"O-of course, Bassy! It's just that…I'm not aware―or should I say…"

Grell thought for a moment on a proper answer to the question, as Sebastian gave him a confused look. But there wasn't a way to explain how whenever the butler made the initiative, he felt unbearably coy and embarrassed. Still, he couldn't leave his darling demon without an answer.

"Y-you make me feel…wanted," he cheered up at finding the right word before continuing. "A-and I don't know how to react to that…I guess. I haven't felt like that in a long time…"

Sebastian let a chuckle fall out of his lips, "As a demon, I cannot comprehend or relate to the feeling. But as your lover, it is something worthy to be proud of for me, _and_ a statement, because you **are** wanted." He moved their bodies to the dancing crowd, careful of the shinigami's unseen feet, "Maybe you could somehow teach me how that feeling works?"

Sebastian chuckled at his own words. It wasn't a dark chuckle, but instead one that showed a bit of lethargy, Grell thought, as if he didn't _really_ wish to learn a human feeling.

The butler didn't allow Grell to answer the question, though, as he began to lead him across the floor with short and fast paces, some spins along the steps. It took Grell a good ten seconds before realizing that Sebastian was leading him on a waltz, glaring over the butler's shoulder to see other couples dancing to the same rhythm joyfully. His body moved instinctively, following the steps being played to him: one-two-three, one-two-three, slow-quick-quick, slow-quick-quick, twists after twists…

It was almost like the reaper was forced to watch and participate in a play he had no control over, where strings of a puppet master pulled and moved him. Although he was actually submitting himself to his partner in the swings of the dance, allowing him dominion over his being. To push, pull and toss his body as the other wanted.

Grell loved that feeling of being dominated, in, perhaps, every sense of the word, or the ones he could think of.

Sebastian was busy observing Grell and his…mirthful expression –at the moment, it was the best word to describe him–, that gleeful smile decorating his feminine face and eyes half closed, shimmering like a star.

Even though it was uncomfortable for him to be so close to another person (a person who enjoyed the contact, contrarily), the thought that it also felt pleasurable in a way he couldn't quite understand kept him quiet and contemplating. As he continued to lead the dance around the other pairs, it was a strange sensation building up at the back of his head that kept him from staying concentrated on his surroundings.

_Why do I feel…happy?_ It was probably Grell's fault. He somehow managed to make the demon feel things he shouldn't by definition of his nature. Happiness, empathy, compassion, _love_…emotions a spawn of the lord Satan would normally _not_ feel, or even think about. Yet the shinigami made it possible. _When did this begin?_ Sebastian reminisced, _Ah, that's right. It was―_

"Um…Sebby?"

"Hmm?" Sebastian was brought down from his thoughts at the sound of a sheepish voice, still dancing. "What is it?" Further observing the redhead below, he saw a wince, "Is something the matter, Grell?" Sebastian added.

"U-um, I think I feel a little dizzy…" Grell spoke almost as a whisper. He lifted a hand to rub his throbbing temples. "My head hurts, really…"

It wasn't a soft, flimsy soreness that could easily leave after a couple of minutes of starting. His forehead pounded painfully, throbbing, for no apparent reason either. The spinning wasn't helping ease the pain in any form. It felt like the kind of headache you get after getting slapped by a thick, stone brick…repeatedly.

As they stopped moving well out of the other dancers' path, Grell whined faintly, the throbbing subsiding for just a second. Sebastian furrowed his eyebrows in concern over the other's aching.

"Grell? Are you alright?" he spoke as he placed a hand gently to the redhead's forehead. He noticed Grell giving a weak nod, "What happened?"

The shinigami pulled himself to rest his head on Sebastian's shoulder. "…Don't know…started…hurting." Sebastian raised his hand to pat Grell smoothly on his exposed nape.

"Do you feel better now?" Grell relished the concern felt over him; it surely made him feel better to know he was safely held by his cherished love, worrying over his ailment. It gave him a sense of relief to know someone besides himself cared for him so profoundly.

It was very refreshing, actually, to be cared for. He certainly hasn't felt like that in a long time, truly.

"I do now," Grell said with a smile. He nuzzled in the warm shoulder lovingly, before Sebastian lifted his chin up from the spot only to look straight into scarlet eyes.

Sebastian gazed back intently, deep into the double-iris green eyes, "I'm glad."

After speaking those words, and perceiving that Grell giggled softly, he lowered his head to bring his lips just a mere inch apart from Grell's. The reaper, on the other hand, jumped back slightly, being startled by the closeness.

"W-what are you doing?" Grell asked pulling back more.

"Isn't it obvious? Perhaps I should demonstrate." Sebastian then took Grell's lips with his own, giving him a kiss.

The blushing shinigami pressed against Sebastian, leaning into the embrace, eyes closed. He wrapped his arms loosely around strong shoulders for support.

Grell would happily play along, kissing back with fervor. It made Sebastian chuckle audibly, and acknowledging Grell's quick approval he placed his arms around Grell's waist. A soft slow sigh sounding from the shorter male was all the permission he needed.

Grell gasped at the feeling of a slick tongue over his lower lip and his lips gladly parted to further deepen their kiss. He tilted his head eagerly to the side for a better angle. Sebastian even nipped at his lower lip, straining a yelp out of Grell, and so proceeded sensually licking the soft pink mark made afterwards. It was enough to milk a moan out of the reaper and wake a fire in him.

He knew he would eventually lose their bout of tongues, but Grell wanted to make it last as much as possible.

In their tryst, Sebastian pushed the heated redhead onto a column, hiding their fiery activity from view. He wouldn't want to be interrupted by curious onlookers. But he shoved Grell toward the column too harshly by mistake. Hearing the other softly mewl in pleasure, however, told him it was forgiven, and enjoyed. _How could I forget? _Sebastian thought, continuing his fondling._ He enjoys that kind of treatment…which is why he's so persistent._ Eyes dimly glowing, he cupped the other's chin and planted another rough, feverous kiss, hissing quietly as he sliced his tongue carelessly on the spiked pearly-white teeth.

Grell felt his lips be forcibly parted, and a hot tongue probing the expanse of his mouth. He tasted a strong, iron liquid that could only be Sebastian's blood, which made him shudder in delight.

It was like tasting black tea showered with fresh blood.

Grell's eyes were clouded with lust by a heat wave rushing through him, his heartbeat increasing with every passing second. His body grew warm from being caressed, burrowing his body against the demon butler, growing need with each given touch. His breathing grew frantic and uneven as Sebastian's fingers grazed over the sides of his abdomen, shivering as the warm digits traced his ribs over the silky dress with almost ghostly touches. Gloved fingers pressed lower and lower, until reaching his growing arousal, provoking a gasp from the shinigami. Over the realization that Grell was at a loss of air and the temperature rose several degrees, Sebastian stopped their sweltering touches.

"My, my, things are getting out of hand," Sebastian breathed out as his lips brushed the redhead's own bruised lips with every word. "We should stop now before―_ngh_." Grell reached down and gripped his groin through the trousers' fabric, a strained groan escaping him. He had forgotten he was reasoning with _Grell_, and a contortion of many feelings, (confusion, hurt, desire) was written over the shorter man's features.

"B-but―"

"Ah, ah, ah," he removed the hand from its offending place, a few mental images of what pleasurable _motion_ it could do to him running through his mind. "I promise to continue our _reunion_ after my master is sound asleep in his room."

"But _Sebas_-_chan_," Grell whimpered, knowing that the butler was right and it would be suspicious if Sebastian left the party before the young boy who hosted the party. "Oh, _alright_…but a promise is a promise."

"Of course, my lady."

Grell giggled inwardly a little breathless. He would have his fun later in the night. Sebastian simply sighed, knowing that Grell was probably already planning their future activities.

_I spoil him too much_, the butler reflected. _Then again…I've teased him countless times, it wouldn't hurt to spoil him some more._

"I recall you wanted to know my reason for leaving you unattended, correct?" Sebastian whispered unnecessarily into the redhead's ear, recognizing an all too familiar blush begin to retake the other's cheeks.

"Y-yes," Grell peeped out, feeling warm from the butler's unbearable closeness. "Are you going to tell me?"

"Turn around." He simply ordered. The surprised look on Grell's face was expected, "Don't misunderstand and just turn, please. I won't do anything to you."

He did as was told and faced the column, waiting for an explanation. Grell recognized the sound of rummaging through pockets and heard an almost inaudible pop, like that of a small box being opened. Many different scenarios ran through his mind as the quiet seconds ticked by, quiet except for the distant voices of other humans mingling. He saw that Sebastian circled his arms around his neck, making him anxious, mentally. _What is he…?_

The tell-tale feel of a cool metal touch over his exposed neck told the rest of the story, and suddenly, Grell couldn't contain his great happiness. After the arms adjusted the necklace in the back, Grell looked down to see just what was placed over him that felt slightly heavy and cold.

It was a ruby stone, three stones precisely, that hung enveloped intricately in a thin silver necklace, glimmering with a heavenly shine. The ruby stones looked as if they were formed with the freshest blood, taking a glow that would be considered eerie to any common human, but impressed Grell deeply.

It was such a rarity to find such an intense color, the color of _passion_.

"B-Bassy, why is there such a _lovely_ gemstone―w-where did you―how…?" Grell stuttered in between worlds, still admiring the gems.

The quality of the rubies was _immensely_ great. Such a necklace with _three_ large high quality rubies would verily cost more than the average pay, and even though Sebastian _is_ a demon, he served as merely a butler.

Sebastian felt amused after leaving Grell speechless, and started to explain. "I was in the market getting some groceries for the young master's breakfast a couple of weeks ago, when I crossed a jewelry store and an idea came to my mind." He gestured to the necklace currently wrapped around Grell's collar. "I know how much you adore that color, so I made you one, well, three."

Grell's eyes went wide hearing the last words. _He _made_ this?_ Grell couldn't help but wonder in amazement. He clutched the center gem, feeling its smooth surface. It felt just like a ruby. Is it real? Is it really real? "How did you make this? Is it really a ruby, Sebby?" he managed to form the words without a stutter.

The butler gave him a reassuring smile, "But of course it is, how can I call myself the butler of the Phantomhive household if I can't do something like this?" Grell's frown warned him to answer his first question, and subtlety cleared his throat to continue. "I cannot tell you _how_ I did do so though, it is simply one of my many abilities. What would a demon do with a greedy soul if he could not give him wealth? What would a demon do with an envious soul if he could not kill his enemies in an instant? It is in my nature to do such 'impossible' things, but I cannot explain them to you. I, myself, do not quite understand them, but it does not mean I cannot _do_ them."

He paused to see Grell attentively listening to him, "And these gemstones –rubies as humans would recognize– that I created, have a slight grain of my being, _blood_, engraved into its core, so you will always have a small piece of me as long as you have it."

Sebastian couldn't hold back his tell-tale smirk from forming, "You know, in ancient times, it would be used as a gem of protection. It was a flimsy superstition, very amusing to see. Do you believe that a small stone can grant you more protection, when I am standing right here, ready to do so at any moment?"

As all the information given to him slowly settled into his brain, Grell acknowledged his lover's consideration, and his dedication, read between the lines. All his captivating brain acknowledged was a small hint of demand. _No need to doubt me, no need to ignore me._

His cheeks were tinted a light pink, gripping the gems tighter in his palms.

There was a piece of his Sebastian with him.

"Alright, I understand. This is a precious gift from Sebastian, _my_ Sebastian…have you ever given anyone a gift with so much thought?" Grell asked, curiously.

"Actually…this is the first gift I've ever given someone willfully. Consider yourself honored." Sebastian gave him a small bow.

"_R-really?_" Grell almost yelled out in pure excitement. To be his 'first' –in a sense– a great deal of importance. He would always treasure that wonderful jewelry.

And then Grell remembered something that made him grin mischievously.

"Sebas-chan, do you know what a ruby means when it is given as a gift?" His eyes glinted with a playful look.

This raised some curiosity in the butler, "No, I am not familiar with those human traditions. What, may I ask, does it mean?" Somehow, deep down, he knew that it was something the redhead will never let him live down.

"It is a gift of _love_~." Grell rolled the last word around his mouth, as if expecting the letters to come out and spell themselves with a dance.

Sebastian could only pinch his brow at the answer. He saw _that_ coming around the corner.

Grell kept ranting about how it was the ultimate gift a lover cloud give, to practically recite to the other you love them, like roses from a florist.

And he didn't let up, no matter how many times Sebastian said that _that wasn't the intention_ or, _you're thinking about it too much_. To anyone overhearing, it would be a heavy dispute soon to be called a fist fight; to the two discussing, it was already a common everyday thing, except they didn't see each other _everyday_. Sebastian managed to resist the urge to smack his palm against his forehead for the sake of keeping his composure, but mostly because the demon wanted to win the argument, even if he was discussing with _Grell_.

As they 'conversed civilly' the ruby necklace clinked and bounced against Grell's chest with all his energetic gestures. He was also determined to win this argument. Sebastian got him that gift because he loved him, everything else was a complicated excuse! At least that's _his_ reason for arguing.

He wasn't winning, but he succeeded in being melodramatic about it. Grell was always so heatedly emotional when he was determined about something. Everyone who really knew him would also know that, and Sebastian was almost positive the redhead would give up in about five minutes.

They were too absorbed in the words spoken aloud to realize there was a mysterious, statuesque man hidden in the crowd, shrouded by long dark hair, looking in their direction. Even a horde of people in between him and the two, it was clear that he was focused on the pair. The concealed figure chuckled hearing a rather loud remark by the redhead, a crude smile etched over his face.

"I've found you…little fruit."

* * *

><p><em>AN: I call Sebastian by all of his nicknames (whichever fits the moment). No nickname discrimination here._


	3. Smoldering Fire

_**Warning:**__Lemonade time! That equals __descriptive fluffy__man-loving._

* * *

><p>It was already after midnight when the last guest left the party; the servants were then busy cleaning and reorganizing the ballroom as the master of the household returned to his room. Elizabeth took refuge in one of the guestrooms, too exhausted to return home, especially at this time. It was actually just a small excuse to stay over and greet his fiancée in the morning. She hadn't visited him in such a long time after all.<p>

The three servants finished their work and immediately excused themselves to their quarters, the house steward named Tanaka already resting in his room. A certain butler, on the other hand, would be preoccupied, as always.

Sebastian had prepared a guestroom for Grell's stay in the second floor's West Wing, opposite to the young master's bedroom which resided in the East, for privacy measures and to spare the sleep-deprived boy of what would happen. There wouldn't be any resting any time soon on his schedule.

Soon after Ciel was dressed to sleep, the butler excused himself and returned to the hyper shinigami downstairs. The mansion was dark and silent as the redhead played with some lose strands of his hair absentmindedly, as he waited. He perked up quickly after seeing his lovely gentleman-in-black head down the large stairway, extending his right hand for Grell to take. Of course, he gladly took it with a blush.

Sebastian led him up to the isolated room, the purpose for such a thing was obvious, at least to his little perverted mind. As he followed, his red dress brushed against the carpeted floor, since his feet were still bare. They didn't speak for the remainder of the walk.

Glancing back toward Grell as he headed to the room, Sebastian noted the dressed reaper showed small signs of nervousness, with all the fidgeting around. He kept those details to himself, though, knowing that Grell was probably in some sort of internal quip. Tonight was going to be a special night for the reaper, and he supposed that some mental preparations were necessary.

For Grell, those two and a half minutes of walking along corridors seemed like an eternity, quite an exaggeration for an entity of death. His body simply couldn't keep calm as he tried to adjust to the dim light; his legs trembled slightly, caught in the flutter of his increasing heartbeat, not because he was excited, but actually worried with a hint of nerves. It didn't help that the hallway was _very_ dark. Not a single candle lit around to grant him a clue as to how much longer they would continue to walk, but somehow he could still see where the walls were, thankfully.

A couple of times his tired green eyes played eerie tricks on him, but Grell was sure nothing was behind that creaking door to his left, and the painting hanged on the wall did not look or follow him as he kept walking past it. His mind worked on hyper drive, somewhat sluggishly, as if he would either dash away or freeze facing looming danger. No, it was just the adrenaline, or anxiety? He couldn't tell the difference at the moment with his hallucinations, although he was certain he was sweating out of fear.

Yes, Grell felt fear, but not the kind you feel when you're facing a crisis, or death; death didn't faze him, and why would it? For him, it was much worse than that.

He was afraid of rejection.

He couldn't stop thinking of all the times he was rejected by Sebastian before. Now, in the present time, it was different. The demon _did_ love him –he knew that much with absolute certainty–, Sebastian even told him so some time ago, he couldn't remember when. But the very small, logical part of his brain kept taunting him, saying it could all still be a farce. Doubt arose, and he shut his eyes to push those thoughts away.

_Why am I so worrisome at a time like this?_ Grell reckoned, discussing with himself, _There's no room for doubt, I love him, and he loves me…right?_

"Here we are, Grell." The calm tone of Sebastian's velvety voice brought him back to reality, and Grell realized he was clenching his hand tightly as he followed the man. A light pink blush of embarrassment crept over his cheeks as he noticed it was Sebastian's hand he was squeezing with his own.

Sebastian was holding his hand the whole time.

The raven-haired butler never once complained of his constricting hold, which caught Grell off-guard, since he so often was told he had a deathly grip, not just by his Sebby but by everyone. Grell thought, as the man before him opened the door with his free hand, that Sebastian would know by now of his mental stressing and uneasiness –because he seemed to read minds and know everything– and the redhead could sense that familiar satisfied smirk forming on Sebastian's face right about now.

_I'm so stupid,_ Grell thought with a faint smile, entering the dark room. _But I hope my Sebas-chan understands…_

* * *

><p>Sebastian wondered for a moment if he should speak up about his badly-aching hand, but let the suggestion pass by. Nearing the destination, Sebastian knew that teasing Grell about his distress now was a bad idea. There was a right time for everything with a <em>woman,<em> and since Grell considered himself one, he would treat him as such.

For now.

He stopped in front of the wooden door, the last room of the hallway, and cleared his throat to inform Grell of their arrival. The pressure in his hand lessened and, for a second, he saw there was a faint blush painted on the shinigami's face. _It seems he finally took notice that there is nothing to fear with me here,_Sebastian thought, hiding his sly smile under an apathetic face. _And…I can finally feel my fingers._

Opening the door, he glanced inside the ordinary guestroom before gesturing for Grell to enter.

It was a bland design, since it was just a guestroom, but it looked must more appealing and interesting in the moonlight. The soft cream pattern over the walls made it appear as if the room was suddenly painted a dark gray, the light coming in from the slightly-covered windows tinting the room a light blue color. Only a dresser, a spacious bed, an armoire and two drawers, which were beside the large bed, decorated the interior. The mentioned bed, which was large enough to hold four people in Grell's calculations, rested against the wall parallel to the door; the bed covers were plump and soft, a dark navy color that looked almost like the sea with the moon shining in through the curtains of the windows.

It wouldn't have been Grell's first choice, but it would do.

Grell paced to the window, which was built to the left of the bed, and pulled the translucent blinds back. The view that greeted him could be described as pleasant and relaxing. There was a full moon out, a beautiful bright orb in the starry night sky, and the forest below appeared highlighted by the moon's shine, tones of dark green mixing with light teal ones.

"Do you find the view to your liking?" Sebastian spoke just behind the rarely quiet shinigami. Grell whipped his head back to face the butler, lost in the moment.

"Oh, it isn't as great as the sight before me _now_." Always the kiss-up.

"Please don't flatter me, that's _my_ job," Sebastian retaliated, pulling the blinds over the window, hiding the bright moon. The room was darker now, everything a gloomier shade of gray. Grell formed a pout, disapproving the lack of light.

"Sebby~, now it's too dark! I can still see but everything looks so bland and…_boring_." A smirk grew on the demon's face over the reaper's last word, spoken as if it was a taboo.

"But now you're the only color that stands out in this 'canvas'. I was sure you would've liked to stand out." The pause and grunt Grell gave as response told him he accepted the compliment, with some unusual scorn. Sebastian had grown accustomed to the reaper's extravagant and childish nature to know how to turn his attitude around. Grell had always been putty in his hands, but he liked to make sure he had control over everything. Sebastian liked his dominant position.

Grell, on the other hand, was being stubborn, more than he normally was. Sebastian's words sounded so tacky yet romantic for Grell, he felt the need to thank the man before him for the thought, but wanted to remain quiet. So he did the nearest thing: scowl. He _did_ like to stand out, but it would take a lot more of compliments before he decided to be bedded.

Well…not that many.

Sebastian understood the proposed game and dipped forward, his nose barely brushing Grell's own. Grell stayed in the same place, a somewhat angry face on even though he wasn't angry. He just looked angry when he was being stubborn. The redhead was too focused on ignoring the person in front of him to see the demon was staring intently. Sebastian straightened himself and frowned over ignoring a clear feature.

"I apologize. I failed to notice you were wearing a different pair of glasses, perhaps it is because they are just as red as your usual ones." Grell stifled a gasp at the discovery. It was true, Grell was sporting a different pair of glasses. Ones with no chain and a thinner frame. He gave out a squeal and spread his arms up, unable to contain his joy. Defeat came sooner than expected.

"Oh, _Sebas-chan~,_ I knew you would notice!" Grell then sprang toward Sebastian, who didn't expect the sudden outburst of energy, and clung to the trapped neck while nuzzling the suit's lapels. "You took some time to finally notice though, it surprised me~." The butler only kept his arms to himself and allowed Grell to continue to cling like a colorful necktie.

"Yes, I should have, and I apologize again for not noticing," he said with a disappointed look. Such a simple thing like a meager costume change should have been easily noticed by him, and he gravely scolded himself mentally. Dusting the library must have dulled his senses of sight. "But I must say," Sebastian added, "even though they fit you well, I prefer how you look without them."

And with that, he gently took the red glasses off of the smaller male's face, folded them neatly and placed the glasses in his breast pocket. A chuckle broke the short silence seeing Grell's flustered reaction.

"Why…_thank you_." A giggle escaped the reaper's lips as he spoke, "I work hard to look my best, but I can't see without 'em, Sebby!"

"I beg to differ. You _can_ see, just not well," he corrected, stepping closer to the shorter-than-usual shinigami. "You have eyes after all." His breath ticked Grell's nose as he spoke once more, looking down straight into his eyes.

"Can you see me now?"

There was something about that one sentence that made Grell lose what he had left of his poor self-control. There was no hint of seduction in any of the words, but the dim glow of magenta that appeared in Sebastian's eyes lured him like fresh meat to a hungry lion. He paid no thought to the butler's question, since it would be such an _obvious_ answer. Instead, he lunged his head forward and took those soft lips with his own, desperately. His gloved hands toyed with the pitch black hair, twirling and tugging strands as he pressed flush against the rigid body. Finally, he felt two arms wrap around his thin waist and chain him in place.

As Grell's hands played with the silky locks of hair, Sebastian pressed back into the kiss, licking the other's lower lip. Two plump lips parted, and his tongue probed the wet expand of Grell's mouth, deepening the kiss. A moan sounded from Grell as two heated tongues battled with each other, short gasps of air interrupting every few seconds. The two arms holding Grell in place slid up, tangling long red stresses as he moved, to undo the laces keeping the dress on, very skillfully. After undoing the laces, the same strong arms pushed the body slowly and carefully, the feverous kisses never halting.

For Grell, breathing was unnecessary, but he couldn't help the gasps and pants coming from his body as the cold night felt hotter and hotter with each passing second. He felt something bump into the back of his legs, and glancing down he saw it was the large bed. Pulling back to catch his breath, he lost his balance as his knees gave out and he fell back into the bed, Sebastian on top of him. His red hair spread in all directions, painting the navy bed a bloody sea.

The reaper sunk on the comfortable bed as he tried to regain some composure, but failing to as he sensed Sebastian hover above him, quick breaths mingling together with his own. He saw the butler tug his white gloves off with his teeth before removing Grell's long red ones with his now-exposed hands.

As the disheveled butler worked to remove the long gloves, he planted openmouthed kisses over Grell's neck, nipping and trapping porcelain skin to leave light pink marks. The dress in question was halfway down the feminine man's torso as his chest rose and fell, the gloves now removed and hands free to roam over the clothed chest above him. Feeling a little irritated, being the only one who was losing clothing, Grell lifted his bare hands and pulled at the black tailcoat, prying it off. Sebastian, feeling to the fumble of the redhead's hands, stopped and sat up abruptly.

He froze in place, on top of Grell's waist, with a perplexed look. Grell also remained frozen, a confused feeling overtaking him. _Did I do something wrong?_

"Wha–what's wrong?" he asked with a concerned look, a little out of breath. Sebastian provided no answer, but looked down on his tailcoat on the bed beside him with an unreadable mask.

"I'm sorry…I reacted unconsciously." The demon finally said with a tone of indifference sinking in slowly. He leaned down raising himself from pinning Grell, his hands beside the reaper's head. "It's just that…"

Grell lifted an eyebrow to the strange behavior. "Just that…what?" _What could have been so serious as to stop you? Am I too much?_

"…I've never been seen nude in my human form." Sebastian said bluntly, no emotion reflected on his face.

The shinigami could only be silent as the words filtered into his brain. _He's never been seen…naked?_ A naughty smile crept over his features in response. "I didn't know you could be _shy_."

"I'm not." Sebastian released a sigh. He knew Grell would misunderstand his words. "I just thought that you would be the first to see myself rid of clothing. For humans, being completely exposed is a sign of weakness, so I've always refused to remove my clothing when engaging in sexual activities with one. I also did not want to give a mere human the privilege of even a _glimpse_ at my body. I do not wish to look weak, for anyone."

Deep in thought, Grell hummed in consideration. Everything Sebastian said meant in one way or another that showing ones bare appearance was lowly, and he understood and reasoned with the idea. For humans, nudity was the most vulnerable state, exposed to everything and everyone to see. It made sense that a demon that lives off humans would think the same.

But Grell also disagreed. Being undressed wasn't _just_ weakness, and he would try to convince Sebastian otherwise.

"You know," Grell whispered out meekly, piecing together his next words, "It also means intimacy. Being naked for someone else shows that you trust that person, and I would feel honored –and _blessed,_ no matter how ironic that is for you– to be the only person to see every _inch_ of you. You don't need to worry about anything, I would never think of you as someone who's weak. Ever. You can trust my word on that, _Sebastian_." He gave him a soft kiss in the left cheek for reassurance.

Whenever Grell actually used Sebastian's full name, which was rare enough an event, it meant he was being as serious as he could be, and trying. Using a cute nickname wouldn't sound very serious in the situation anyway, try as he might.

Although not much changed in his head, the word _intimacy_ sounded right, perfect even at the moment. He had never been close to anyone before, with the recent exception of his young master, but it was a flimsy closeness with the boy. He felt _some_ type of affection for the child, but it was a kind of friendly understanding, and not even _that_ friendly. Perhaps respect. But he was his meal, period.

That would make Grell the singular being he was closest to, in a romantic way dare he say. Perhaps he shouldn't feel that ashamed to be naked for him. The redhead's reaction would be another story.

He sighed in defeat. _I'll give him what he wants…but I'm doing this my way._

"Then, if you don't mind, I will remove my clothes by myself." Sitting up again and starting to unbutton his waistcoat, Grell could only stare as the demon shed the dark colored waistcoat and loosened his black tie. The removed clothing slid down the long arms easily and fell with some grace on the bed, accompanying the lone jacket, and the tie soon joining them. Looking down toward Grell, Sebastian pursed his lips into a smirk, seeing that the redhead was getting a little excited with his stripping, cheeks in a red hue.

That piercing stare Grell was giving him felt as if it would burn a whole right _through_ him.

Feeling a bit bold and motivated, Sebastian continued to remove his white button shirt, only much slower than with the previous articles of clothing. He took his time with each and every button, starting at the top, before getting irritated halfway with the fabric and tearing the rest off.

There was a sense of overwhelming freedom as the chilled night air met his pale skin, something he hadn't felt in _ages_.

Grell stared in awe at the body pressing down on him. He had fantasized about that body so many times, but the real form was so much simpler than he'd imagined. The fine curve of the demon's back displayed his smooth, slender build, which was most likely only visual, considering the real strength hidden underneath. He still wore those infernal black trousers that now hung tightly, but Grell left them alone, for now.

The entranced reaper's gaze rose to look at two glowing red orbs as a forceful hand met a sensitive pink nub, provoking an audible groan.

Sebastian smiled playfully as he twisted that nub, relishing in the soft pants it caused out of its owner. He bent down, trapping the writhing prey below all the while doing his ministrations. A cry was heard, turning into a low growl as he bit into Grell's right shoulder harshly, breaking skin. Little droplets of fresh blood pooled out, before being lapped up like rich wine by the demon. A shiver ran down Grell's spine, feeling the pleasure-pain of his inflicted wound. He wished Sebastian would give him more love bites like _that_. As he adjusted to kick his shoes off, Sebastian felt the other's awakened length poke into his thigh, choking a moan from Grell in the heated air. Sebastian smiled an intoxicated grin, and once again licked the small wound now on Grell's shoulder, lapping the new drops of blood. He continued to taste the salty skin as he headed down. There was something more important that needed his attention.

Grell could hardly think over the tongue that probed and prodded over his skin, leaving a thin trail of hot saliva behind. With each touch Grell's body burst ablaze, as if the mouth and hands brushing and caressing him were as hot as fire itself, or at least that's how it felt to him. The tongue stopped for a moment just to circle the other abandoned sensitive nub, then over rising and falling slim ribs, soon dipping into his navel. The reaper groaned in lustful frustration over being teased and tasted like this, enjoying every touch and wanting more and more as the seconds grew into minutes, arching to the hot touches. The busy hand left its place abusing the perked nub, and removed what was left covering Grell –the dress– still clinging to his body, to reveal red women's lingerie that left little to the imagination.

It didn't surprise Sebastian at all, rather it would worry him if Grell was caught wearing male underwear.

Pulling them down uninterested, he finally revealed the full length begging for attention. Grell gasped, shivering at the cold air meeting his burning manhood, and strained a yell at the feel of a hand move up to hold his creamy thigh, fondling, another gripping his member softly. There was a fine sheet of sweat trickling over his body in anticipation and desire.

The butler tested the redhead giving an experimental taste, and the sharp inhale he received as an answer led him to continue, suckling hungrily. Grell jerked at the sensation with a buck, losing his self-control for a moment as he was engulfed in the temporary act. Sebastian, on the other hand, showed no gag-reflex and only advanced, further mouthing the reaper to his heart's content. Hearing the Grell's pleasured mewls and moans caused a heat to coil in his center and his slacks to feel three times tighter, then Sebastian found himself sounding a deep groan, sending vibrations through to Grell, who let out loud sounds and sighs as he neared his release. Grell continued to writhe and twitch with pleasure under Sebastian, rather embarrassed of his wanton sounds but not caring to hide his feelings.

Giving enough treatment to the slick muscle, the engrossed butler pulled back and through half-lidded eyes stared at the mess of hair, sweat and arousal looking back at him, shimmering green eyes mirroring his stare. Said being was lost in the high, feeling a loss after Sebastian pulled away. Even though he knew it was only the beginning, the flushed shinigami felt impatient.

Then he heard the distinct sound of zipper.

Grell's eyes, widened at the sound, pried to find the source and a glint covered them in merriment.

"I know _I'm_ bold, but no undergarments?"

"It's not like anyone will know." Sebastian replied, kicking his trousers out of the way. His manhood was already standing tall and proud, free of its cage. It was painful to keep inside those trousers while remaining in control.

His Grell recoiled back when Sebastian crouched over his face, an intimidating yet sexy animalistic growl escaping the demon. He bore a stare at the usually composed man's behavior, before being distracted by three fingers in front of his lips. A silent order, Grell proposed. He eagerly took them with a quiet hum, thoroughly coaxing the digits in his mouth with his moistened tongue.

Grell felt a bit idle, having Sebastian do all the work for him. He wanted to at least show that he had some capability and vigor in him. He was even careful of his teeth as he lightly nipped the fingers, making sure to lick every inch of them.

They pulled away after being lavished enough, and Sebastian placed them down on Grell's entrance. They circled the puckered hole tentatively before inserting one finger. Grell gave a small cry as the digit curved and thrust into him, spreading his legs to allow more space to be pressed into. His back arched ever so slightly more as a second one entered him and began to scissor and stretch his narrow entrance. Sebastian was captivated by the cute whines and whimpers spilling from the thrashing redhead, fueling him to push deeper and rougher. Grell could hardly control his senses; he hadn't coupled in such a long time he felt as sensitive as a virgin, and as a third digit pressed in, an erotic, deep moan rippled out his throat.

Sebastian very well knew that the shinigami had not entered any sexual relationships in a long time, so it did not surprise him seeing Grell reduced to a whimpering mess under his touch. Nevertheless, he continued to twist and dig to find his goal, careful not to cause too much pressure, even if it was welcomed. At last, he met the thick bundle of nerves with a sharp thrust of his fingers, and a very loud, very _intense_ scream filled the room. Waves of pleasure coursed through Grell's body, threatening to find release before, what Grell called, the main event.

The fine arch of Grell's spine nearly lifted him off of the plum bed in result, his eyes closed tight as a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. Even with his frantic breath, clear and raging, Grell tried to form words, as impossible as it was in his state, trying to calm his senses.

"_Haa_, S-Sebas…tian…" he managed to make out low as a whisper.

Sebastian understood that it was enough and pulled out his fingers. Again, Grell felt the loss and gave a small, almost inaudible whine, before having two hands grab his legs and hang them over stiff shoulders, the tip of Sebastian's member brushing against his entrance. Seconds passed until Grell finally could breathe normally again, and the heat forming in his nether regions lessened, but it didn't calm his aching desire.

He gained the courage to look up at his predator and saw Sebastian, the epitome of a sex god: pitch-black hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead with thin sweat, chest slowly growing and shrinking with every intake of air with his parted lips, and eyes, half closed, glistening with a deep, lustful red. The image itself was enough to cause a burning heat to twist and coil in his abdomen, reaching lower as a cold shudder ran up his spine. His member ached for release now, his body, too, wanting to be taken for the first time in decades. As he kept admiring Sebastian's body, a voice, strange to his ears, spoke in a husky, heavy tone.

"Tell me…are you prepared for this?" It took him a second to realize it was Sebastian's own voice speaking to him. It sounded so foreign to him, just for an instant, Grell thought it was another person. After getting over the initial shock, he was left a little confused by the words, but he had to answer if he wanted to quench his need.

"Of course I am!" Grell gasped, feeling his sides be gripped strongly.

"Then tell me, beg for me, make me believe you." There was a hint of his sadistic smirk tugging at his smile, looking at Grell wiggle uncomfortably, trying to soothe his growing need but failing. Grell gave up his thrashing in defeat, knowing Sebastian wouldn't allow him to be pleasured until he begged for it.

"_Please_…take me, make me yours already…" he trailed off with a furious blush.

Sebastian did as commanded, and with a thrust, he pushed inside of him, burying himself slowly. Grell threw his head back into the bed, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream as he was stretched mercilessly. He clamped down on the intruding organ, unaccustomed to the feeling. Sebastian groaned at the friction, Grell tightened painfully around him as he settled in, or tried to.

"Grell…_relax_…" Sebastian hissed, biting his own lower lip enough to draw blood. He needed him to relax his muscles or it would be painful for both of them. Regardless, Grell couldn't unwind his tightening muscles; he grimaced at his own incompetence, unable to even loosen up.

Sebastian, sensing that Grell was unable to relax himself, quickly worked on a solution. He lifted a hand to the forgotten member and began to pump slowly, hopeful that it would distract Grell from penetrating into him. Grell immediately reacted with a jerk, loosening just a tad bit, but enough to relieve part of their discomfort. Sebastian started a rhythm, leaving Grell to become a boiling kettle once again, pressing and rubbing every sensitive part of his weeping length.

At the sound of a throaty groan, Grell completely relaxed his body and Sebastian stopped to bury himself completely. He faced Grell with a forgiving smile. Now that he was relaxed, they could continue with the night.

"Don't worry, Grell," he raised the weak reaper's chin to catch his attention, "The fun is just about to begin. Shall we?"

He left no time for Grell to reply. Instead, he affirmed his words by pulling almost completely out only to thrust back in, slamming right into the bundle of nerves that made Grell twist and writhe in complete pleasure.

Grell let out a cry as Sebastian kept thrusting in and out, every time onto _that_ spot, building a steady rhythm as he gripped Grell's hips enough to bruise his skin red. Grell lifted his arms to grasp Sebastian's shoulder, bringing down his legs from them. Shaky arms wrapped around Sebastian, unintentionally clawing his back as he was thrust into, deeper and faster each time. Bright red lines carved themselves as his manicured nails bit into the pale skin. He contrasted with Sebastian, pulling and pushing to meet his thrust, making his blood boil. Sebastian moaned as he sped up, being scratched like a cat post.

To keep himself from sounding his ecstasy, he lowered his head to nibble Grell's reddened shoulders, biting his collarbone to contain his moans and grunts as Grell tightened and untightened his thick ring of muscles around him. Blood flowed to serve as an aphrodisiac to him, further awakening his lust, feeding his silenced lewd sounds.

Grell's senses all seemed to tangle with each other with every thrust, making a small chant of Sebastian's name spill from his lips. The _deafening_ smell of arousal, the sensual _taste_ of Sebastian's gaze, the _screaming touch_ of skin against slick skin…everything crisscrossed, the only truth being his _euphoria_.

Sebastian felt Grell lose his rhythm, warning him he was close to finally finding release. He too was nearing his climax, sensing a familiar knot below his stomach, growing. Helping increase Grell's peak, he once again gripped the abandoned length and pumped in rhythm to their movement. In only a few seconds, the tensed heat coiled inside Grell snapped and he found his release, throwing his head back with force as he screamed with all his might, Sebastian following behind after a couple of thrusts, his own yell choked under Grell's as he filled him to the brim.

Coming down from his orgasm, Grell collapsed without energy onto the bed, incapable of moving his body. Sebastian pulled out of him and sighed, triumphantly, at Grell's state. He lifted the spent reaper's worn body and placed his head on the bed's feathered pillows, then grabbed the warm bed sheets and covered his lithe bruised body.

Even though the moonlight didn't reach into the room, Grell had an ethereal glow, and what a fascinating feature that was. His red hair, tangled and sweat-slicked, would be fixed and cleaned later. So would the sheets, and their bodies.

Sebastian also got inside the bed sheets. He probably wouldn't sleep but it certainly helped _Grell_ reach his slumber, although he was sure the reaper would fall asleep soon after their 'lovemaking', as humans liked to put it.

So the demon butler rested to Grell's left, wrapping the dark sheet over themselves. He pressed his warmed body to Grell's, who sounded a delighted coo, shifting his head closer to Sebastian's shoulder. Seeing the tired shinigami's attempt, he moved closer to him to grant his wish and Grell weakly settled his heavy head on his lover.

Sebastian was positive Grell was completely spent and near sleep. He was also positive it had been the greatest night of the reaper's life, and if not, he would make sure of it the next time.

The butler released a sigh. They had just finished their first night together and here he was, already thinking of another one. Perhaps it was because Sebastian's body was built for this kind of activity, and also the reason why he wasn't as tired as Grell, even though he had less stamina in his human form.

The demon combed the messy red stresses with his left hand. They were still soft.

Grell felt like a little kitten being petted as he curled into a ball so close to Sebastian. He was so comfortable, but his joy was ruined when that voice, that _tormenting_ voice in his head, suddenly escaped its dark hole and came back to haunt him. His chest stung as if it was stabbed by the sharpest knife, feeling horrible for thinking about it, especially now.

_Does he truly love me?_

Sebastian saw a troubled frown on Grell and made a puzzled look.

"Is something wrong Grell?" He seemed to twitch at the call of his name. He stayed quiet for a few seconds, questioning himself if it was alright to ask, just to silence that voice.

"U-um…I wanted to ask you something…"

And in an attempt to look cute, he made a small kissy face.

Sebastian raised a brow. "But of course, what is it?" he spoke with a calm smile, and not sounding as breathless as Grell wished.

"Well—" Grell stopped and lowered his head, feeling stupid for asking. "Do you really like me?"

A low, almost soundless chuckle came from Sebastian. It quickly disappeared, and his features returned to their normal unreadable form.

"Yes," was his only answer. His face stayed with an aloof expression though, confusing Grell further.

"Why do you like me then?" It was just childish nonsense now. He wondered what kind of reason would there be for a demon to love someone. It may have been Doubt talking, but whenever he actually thought about it, it didn't make sense. Which, then after he would want to quickly erase those thoughts from his mind.

Sebastian gave some thought to the question. Expressing emotions wasn't easy for him, who didn't want to feel or pay attention to things like feelings.

"I grew attached, because you are the first to like me knowing my true nature." He paused and closed his eyes. Small memories flickered here and there, gone the next second, "After acknowledging this, the feelings just kept growing and growing, until I didn't feel any hatred for you. Then I didn't feel disgusted by you. Then I started to _want_ to see you and hold you…and then I wanted to have you, for you to belong to me and only me.

"You wanted me to have you, and now…You, are, _mine_."

Grell found himself with an angry blush. Angry at himself, and blushing because now he really knew that Sebastian felt so much for him. There was unmistakable possessiveness in those red eyes, and that was enough for his smile to returned to his face, still a pinkish red, as he circled his finger softly on Sebastian's chest.

"I didn't think you would be so possessive."

Sebastian felt amused by the reaper's words. "Of course, do you not know how possessive I am about my meals? I'm the _jealous_ kind, naturally."

"True, but—" A yawn escaped him before he could finish his sentence. His head started hurting a little, right after yawning, to which Grell got frustrated. He was getting a lot of headaches recently, it was beginning to worry him.

"Grell…you should rest." Sebastian spoke above a whisper. Grell grumbled for a bit, his headache fading until it was no longer there.

"Oh…_fine_," he replied, and felt very worn and tired. He looked up to Sebastian with heavy eyes. "Good night…" he blinked, "Sebastian," and closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep.

Sebastian watched him as he dozed off, drifting into deep slumber. Grell's red hair pooled over his naked shoulders, like a blanket, as his breath slowly tickled his neck. In this state, he looked so fragile and defenseless, so calm and quiet. So different from his usual self.

Even with this serene beauty beside him, Sebastian felt uneasiness, and furrowed his brow.

When Grell had stared at him to bid him good night, just for a second– no, an _instant_, _just_ before blinking, his clear emerald eyes flashed a different color. Whether it was the dim light playing an illusion on him or not, Sebastian couldn't stop feeling troubled by it. The change wasn't what had troubled him so. Instead, it was the color he saw for that brief split-second. It was unnerving, because it felt familiar.

It was blood red.


	4. Uninvited Guest

_What is this place?_

A wide circular room, bleach-white in color, extended in front of him. The whiteness of the space forced his eyes shut, being momentarily blinded and unable to see those circling him.

Yes, he could tell there were people surrounding him, even without the help of his eyesight. The sound of expensive dress shoes clicking on the marble floor affirmed him that much.

He felt cold and wet, like someone had the audacity to throw him into the Thames River, stark-naked, and dragged him to this location, yet the sensation of the soft cotton over his shivering body told otherwise. He was bent down on the pearly floor, rising with the help of his trembling hands. He crouched defensively as his vision slowly adjusted to the brightness, now able to observe his surroundings.

The sight of a dozen men carefully watching him startled him to alertness.

He couldn't remember why he was there, but he knew he didn't belong in this strange place. And it was _very_ unfamiliar to his eyes because he distinctly remembered, or at least had a gut feeling, that he wasn't here, he never came here, and now he was sure he didn't _want_ to be here.

_How long have I been here anyway?_ The frightened man thought, kneeling in the floor, _I don't recall ever seeing this kind of place._ _I want to go home, I want to go…_

_Where was I before?_

It was alarming, knowing he _couldn't_ be here, but he knew there _had_ to be a 'Before'. This couldn't have been his Before, he had to remember, he had to remember…to escape and return.

Two strong hands gripped his shoulders suddenly, and his forgotten energy awoke with a violent quiver. He didn't hear the words spoken aloud, but his instincts flared and shouted it was dangerous to be around these people. He stood quickly and pulled away from the suited men, until he realized why and _what_ his tattered clothes were drenched in.

His clothes were soaked a sickening red, dripping with blood.

His face went as pale as milk as his mind raged in panic, thinking that he had been kidnapped and woke in the process of being killed by his captors. But his body didn't suffer any pain, anywhere. Instead, it was numbness clouding his strength. This blood wasn't his, it _couldn't_ have been. There was too much to be his and for him to be alive…

_Alive? Am I alive?_

His thoughts were vague and unclear after that, as if he had lost consciousness but was still somehow awake and standing erect. Everything was fuzzy, even the faces that he could now see. Those faces didn't have an expression, or at least he couldn't _see_ the expression. But, he knew they were looking at him. The feeling akin to being stared at with surprised faces, scared looks, but most of all, filled with anger, pierced through his soul like knives.

He was scared.

Suddenly, his feet pushed him toward the man who dared touch him only ten seconds ago. He didn't see what happened –it was all a blur–, but the same man was now crumpled and bleeding heavily. The black clothing his victim was wearing turning a rusty brown. Fresh blood spilled and stained his already bloodied clothes.

_Why is my body moving by itself? Why am I so cold…?_

_What's happening?_

Another one jumped behind him and grasped his arms to prevent what had occurred, but it was useless. The one who was previously binding him had flung up in the air like a sheet of paper, unbelievably light, and he leaped toward the airborne man, a new feeling overcoming his senses as warm, thick trails of blood began to flow over his hand, which went right through the man in such a way that he seemed to be made out of butter.

_I feel alive. I _am_ alive…right?_

A rush of adrenaline, and something else unknown to him, flowed through his veins, encouraging him to rake his hands to the ones opposing him, making mincemeat out of them. Arms, legs, muscles, bones, entrails, organs…all shredded into nothingness, only to be used to paint the floor red, menacingly, beautifully, with flowing, clotting, vital blood. His ears went deaf along with his conscience, only strangled noises similar to grass being trampled was heard.

_Why am I enjoying this?_

Everything was starting to fade, his vision blurring and mixing everything together. The determined men continued to try to stop him, more and more appearing and disappearing, trying to get him under control. His bloodied body continued to move, even when he wanted to stop, even when he couldn't see anymore.

Everything looked red, it was horrible…it was frightening…it was mesmerizing…

He was afraid of _himself_.

At last he stopped, when he couldn't see anything anymore. His surroundings disappeared to the unnerving darkness.

He mused that his body had stopped. Finally, everything was gone. No one was going to hurt him, no one was there to harm him, and he couldn't harm anything.

There wasn't any reason to be afraid anymore. A sigh of relief escaped his quivering lips. But the strong smell of fresh blood pervaded into his lungs. He felt nauseous. But it would fade along with everything else, maybe. He hoped it would.

"_Don't you want to continue?"_

He turned to the voice, but saw nothing. Only the void black.

"_Didn't you like it? Didn't you have fun?"_

"No!" he shrieked out, rather aggressively. He just wanted to go home, if only he could remember—

"_You didn't like it…? How boring you are…how funny."_

"W-who are you? Why are you bothering me?" he screamed at the darkness, terrified once again. He fled from the voice in the dark place, not wanting to know the answer. It didn't matter if he couldn't find an exit. He just wanted to run away from it, the haughty words.

He stopped all together, caught off-guard completely by what he saw.

…_A mirror?_

He approached carefully, staring at himself in the mirror, which stood almost impossibly in front of him, hovering, the only object he could see. His hand rose to touch the reflection, hesitantly, before deeming it harmless.

His mirror-self grinned, startling the real-self.

"_Why did you run away?" _A pout formed in the mirrored face as the words fell out of its mouth, the real man tripping back with disbelief. _"You shouldn't run away from yourself, it's stupid."_

"W-what do you mean _run away from yourself_? I'm not _you!_" he yelled, scurrying to stand. A hand shot out and grasped his windpipe with impossible strength. He gasped trying to catch air, but it was useless. He couldn't breathe.

It was his other self's hand choking him, right out of the mirror.

"No, but _I'm _**you."**

* * *

><p>He sprung up from the bed with a gasp, escaping the nightmare. Sweat trickled down his forehead and dripped down to the dark-colored sheets. Grell panted, regaining his breath as much as he could, before his senses calmed and he ran a hand through his long, red tresses. His hair felt damp and knotted, probably after sweating so much in his sleep.<p>

"Grell? Are you alright?" Sebastian asked, appearing fuzzy to him without his glasses on. He jumped, startled, as he felt a hand brush over his eyes and he could see better again, the thin red frames perched perfectly over his nose, as if his mind had been read in his distress being blinded.

He saw Sebastian clearer now, all dressed up in his usual butler attire with a worried look overtaking his features. Grell stared with a blank look, possibly trying to recall what his nightmare had been about.

"…I think so — I don't recall," the redhead answered shyly, still trying to remember what his nightmare had been about. Bold eyebrows furrowed when he was unable to. He felt it was something important. Sebastian raised a brow to Grell's words, but asked no further questions. He stepped closer to the bed, bringing along with him a steaming kettle and a teacup with various plates upon a silver platter.

"Firstly, I took the liberty of preparing you some Jasmine tea," he stopped to pour the tea into the cup, presenting it to the shinigami. "And I will bring you scones after you finishing your drink," he added, placing the teakettle on the tray, and then situating the tray on the bedside drawer.

Grell took a tentative sip, weary of the steam. The aroma the tea expelled was enjoyable, thus easily accepted. He noticed it was not too hot nor too cold, but just right.

"It's _delicious,_" he affirmed, closing his eyes with glee as his taste buds tinkled with delight.

Sebastian took the compliment with a cordial smile and inspected Grell as he continued to drink. It was distracting, and somehow not unnatural, to see Grell nude with only a navy sheet covering the essential. He sighed with some pride, noticing Grell still had some light pink marks decorating his milky white skin.

"Before I bring you the light snack, I suggest you put something on. Here's a nightgown for you," he said, momentarily leaving his side to go by the armoire and taking the mentioned nightwear, owned by Mey-Rin, the only female inhabitant of the estate.

Grell peered with a single eye to see what the nightgown was like. It was of a peach color, long enough to reach his knees, and not all that attractive. Hence the pout that made its way to his lips.

"Sebby…it's _ugly_," he moped, almost spitting the last word. "Don't you have something more…red?"

Sebastian shook his head. "I would have offered it instead of this. Forgive my bluntness but you can be a big headache when you don't get what you want, Grell."

The reaper scowled and, despite his distaste for the ghastly color, Grell didn't complain when Sebastian dressed him. He still grumbled under his breath though.

The butler snickered quietly, taking the empty teacup and setting it beside the teakettle. He advanced to dress him, drapped the offending nightgown over Grell's delicate and feminine frame, and gave silent orders to have him lift his head and pull his skinny hands through the appropriate sockets. He couldn't help but admire his own work, observing the still-present bite marks on the abused shoulder, slowly healing. He unintentionally caressed them, unnoticed by Grell, before straightening the gown down to cover his body as it meant to.

"I hope you slept cozily, you troubled me seeing you toss and turn throughout the night. Sometimes you mumbled in your sleep something incoherent, are you sure you're fine?" He asked again, but Grell nodded nonetheless.

"I told you I don't recall it… Half of the time I don't remember what I've dreamt, it's normal to everyone. Haven't you ever forgotten a dream?"

"Sorry to say no, I don't have dreams," Sebastian answered with a light smirk. "Ah, I should rephrase that. I meant the dreams I have had in my lifetime, which I can count with a single hand, are more or less memories or premonitions. We demons do not have the capacity to dive into the unconscious world and experience dreams, unlike humans…or shinigami."

"Oh," Hearing about that fact made Grell's heart soften with some sadness for the butler.

So his lover can't divulge in dreams? Sure, there are bad dreams, but there are good dreams too, and all of them provide some small insight into one's own way of thinking.

Perhaps living without being able to dream made the world seem a bit colder and harsher, having to see everything as it is and not as you could want, or make it to be. Maybe Sebastian couldn't dream about wanting things or desiring people. Maybe that was why he never seemed to know what he wanted, only what he needed, only knew how to thrive and continue living.

_That means he can't dream about me!_ Grell only gathered for a moment.

As Grell continued his mental quarrel, Sebastian smiled to himself hearing once again that Grell had forgotten the dream that bothered the scrambled shinigami. In so many ways, the agents of Death had similarities to humans. They both needed nourishment, sleep, rest and most importantly, company. Perhaps they differed in strengths and capabilities, not to mention humans required oxygen to live, but those little similarities amused him.

He noticed that after he declared a demon cannot have dreams, Grell's slight smile disappeared. Was he disappointed? Or simply astonished? He couldn't tell at the moment. It's not as if he could read minds, he only appeared to do so. Sebastian was an expert at guessing.

"Regardless, I have to inform you that you will remain here for the rest of the day, regrettably, by my master's orders."

Grell's sadness changed into a flabbergasted gawk. _Stay here?_

"B-but why? I wanna go out!"

A small chuckle escaped Sebastian, "It seems young master does not wish for you to be seen by the other servants, so you must stay here until nightfall." Sebastian paused to see Grell's newly-formed scowl. "I am sorry, you won't be able to go out today, but at least you may rest comfortably. I'm sure you need some."

_So I can't go out and play? It's almost like I'm under house arrest…_

"Fine, as long as you keep me company. A lady can't be kept alone, you know?" Grell winked suggestively, like he always does.

One sigh and a mouthful of scone later, Grell laid against large pillows, covered warmly by the bedspread, while Sebastian reentered the room he would spent the majority of his day. He came back empty handed, since he only left to return the kitchen items to their place, and smiled as kindly as he could manage to the heaping red tangle of limbs currently on the bed tossing some newfound playing cards all over the room.

Was it simply because Grell was bored out of his mind, or because he wanted to tick Sebastian off, he didn't want to know. What he _did_ know was that there was a new mess to clean up.

"Wouldn't it have been easier to play solitaire while I was gone?" Sebastian enquired, a slight twitch pinching at his forced smile.

Grell offered a puff and his best innocent pout before answering. "But then you wouldn't have much to do, you must be bored _too_~."

There was no retort. Sebastian merely began to pick up the cards flung all about as a small giggle was heard from the bed. Grell had some strange logic, but the demon already knew that. He would learn to live with it.

He paused for a second before continuing to gather two more worn cards. The lazy redhead perceived it too, something caught Sebastian's attention. The butler poised with a couple of dozen cards and handed them to the curious reaper.

"There seems to be intruders," he announced, moving a gloved hand to shush a complaint. "Even if I'm not on duty today, it is still my job to protect this manor's inhabitants. Forgive me, but I won't take too long," he finished, stalking to the door with uncanny grace.

"Promise?" Grell asked, watching his lover halt, "Who can guess what I might do if you take too long. Silly cards aren't the only things in this room, of course. I _might_ decide to scavenge and see what I find?" he suggested more to himself than to the man hearing him.

Grell emphasized his spoken words by bending the cards in hand and flipping them once again to fall clumsily across the room, playfully.

"I _am_ known for wreaking havoc."

* * *

><p>If it wasn't for that positively angelic face, that threat would have worked. Sadly for Grell, it didn't affect much of Sebastian's conscience.<p>

He stood atop the mansion's east wing, glancing at the forest not too far. Seven humans, it seems, were going to attempt to infiltrate the manor, probably hired to investigate, capture or kill the boy taking his violin lessons in his study from the substitute taking his place for today. _Attempt_, because they would fail regardless. Three already made their presence known by daring to leave the safe woods and rushing to the walls of the manor.

His cue to jump down.

The three intruders didn't have much of a chance to scream for help, much less realize the pain or react, when sharpened, conventional knives found their way to their exposed heads, piercing through their skulls with a nasty _crunch_. They fell lifeless, and right beside them landed the striding butler, sighing at the new mess to clean.

Easy prey, as always, humans.

He made his way soundlessly to the neighboring trees where the other four assailants hid. It wasn't long before he came across one, pacing with a gun in hand. _Ah, those could disturb master's studies_, he thought coolly, not minding the easy challenge. It wasn't a challenge at all, really.

In the meantime, deep in the woods, a suited man well into his thirties sat leisurely on a tree stump while another, much younger and obviously anxious, paced back and forth in the same place. He could tell it was his first time working as a hit man.

"Stop it, you're gonna make a rut if ya keep pacing." The elder man glowered at the young'un, who did as commanded but still fidgeted in place. He heard a complaint from the boy, and laughed in a raspy voice. "If ya didn't wanna be a hit man, then why're ya here, boy," the man questioned roughly, sounding more like a statement.

Sometimes, he couldn't quite understand why newcomers hesitated when they got in the business in the first place. Sure, at first you're nervous, it's natural, but if you can't handle the job, why take it? Doesn't make sense.

He jerked his head up, startling the newcomer. "Wh-what is it?" the youngster whispered out, stuttering.

"Mark's dead." He affirmed, taking out his polished handgun. The young man questioned hesitantly how he knew, gaining a scoff as a reply. "I've been workin' for a long time, boy, I can tell jus' by the sounds in the air when someone's dropped dead."

Of course, the novice began to shiver in fear. Perfectly normal, annoyingly normal. It bugged him, but it couldn't be helped. It took years to become adjusted to the feeling of working with death hanging tightly on your shoulder, like a rabid squirrel. Then his sixth sense started acting up, the kind that tells you something bad is going to happen, soon.

This one might be a formidable job.

The rustling in the woods told him they were not alone, and it wasn't one of the other assigned guys that went ahead. A fork flew through the branches and he dodged, luckily, but not the newbie, who yelped as it met his forehead and he collapsed with a loud _thump_. The experienced man crouched near the ground, gripping the valued weapon in his hands, and quickly shifted back to hide behind a thick tree, which caught a runaway knife being flung at him.

_Strange. Kitchenware? What an unorthodox method of killing._

"Oh, a human with skill, how quaint," he heard the voice echo around. Well, now it was difficult to pinpoint the defender's location. He grew nervous.

_Flick_. Another knife was cast. The hit man barely dodged it and, in the instant the silverware connected with the tree, flexed his deft fingers to fire in the direction it came from. A miss, he assumed, by the lack of sound and stillness that came from the opponent.

The unexpected grip at his throat made him convulse and cough for air as his head crashed back to the trunk with a loud crack. There was a dab of blood trickling down his neck, most likely from the force of the impact, and his eyes flew wide open to meet the aggressor, gripping with what was left of strength in his hands at the arm ceasing his strangled throat.

He was surprised by the sight of a young man with a fine suit–a servant's wardrobe, with black hair. Long bangs masked his eyes.

"Nice try, but you lose." Dark eyes glinted to a deep magenta, lurking in the fringes, and the hit man glared with fear and wonder as some drool parted through his mouth in a choking cough.

_So this is how I die? In the hands of a lanky bastard?_

* * *

><p>Sebastian changed his gloves, carelessly dirtying his previous pair with a considerable amount of blood that soaked it after crushing the last victim's neck.<p>

It was an interesting man, he might add. The first and last bullet shot actually grazed his shoulder, more than what any human has done in the last few months.

It reminded him of the time he was bombarded with bullets as he rescued the little master, wanting to play dead since he was getting bored of the simple match, or should he say, acting his part as a _human_. The priceless expressions on those humans who watched him rise from the ground were worth the act. Giving them a sense of victory before dying with such astounded and hopeless faces, like a child winning a prize, then being stolen from right under their noses.

Sebastian sighed with faint boredom. "I admire your courage. Unfortunately you caught a string of bad luck and your efforts were for nothing," he spoke aloud to the man, even though the butler knew he couldn't hear him, being dead.

He began his stride back to the mansion, where he was sure Grell made his desired haven of destruction. A small pinch of interest rolled in his thoughts at Grell's destructive capabilities. Just how much havoc could he have caused in five minutes?

Then a knife flew past him and brushed against his cheek.

Sebastian turned fiercely in surprise, watchful of his back. Had there been another intruder he did not sense?

A man poised a few meters away, smiling smoothly, without a care in the world about the obvious fact that he threw the utensil.

"You forgot that, butler." He pointed out, cocking a brow to Sebastian, who observed warily at the newfound stranger.

The unknown man was of comparable size, almost eyelevel with the alert butler. This he noticed even with the distance. The man had shoulder length, combed back, maroon-colored hair and what appeared to be dark brown eyes concealed of their true color. How odd, that new thing humans called 'contacts'? It must be made of darkened glass.

He sported a black fanciful suit, and a black button shirt underneath, as if to blend in darkness or to stand out from the usual getup. His pearly white skin stood out the most in the drab clothing, duly noted in his shining facial features and sneaking out through the link between his cuffs and hands, which were concealed in black gloves and half hidden inside the trousers' pockets.

That one smug smile written over his face unnerved Sebastian in an irritating way, much like the way a professional pedophile smiles at little children.

"Ah, thank you," Sebastian said as he casually strutted to the silverware and retrieved it from the injured trunk, pocketing it. He glanced back at the figure, who took two steps closer to Sebastian with a harmless mask and a conceited smile.

This man was not human.

"Forgive me, I thought you would have dodged the knife," the mysterious man spoke, a tone of apology seeping between the words. He didn't look like he was particularly sorry, but it also didn't look like he was fishing for a fight.

"It doesn't matter, it is already healed." Sebastian wiped the thin blood trail and showed his words were true. "And, excuse my bluntness, but who are you?"

"Oh, you know manners," he snickered out, "But I can't reveal myself to you yet, Michaelis." Sebastian's eyes twitched ever so slightly at the sound of his given name.

"But you already know who I am? How unfair," Sebastian answered playing along, wondering secretly just who this person was.

The stranger shifted to the side and brought a hidden hand out from his left pocket. "I suppose that's true, since I already know you and the little secret you keep inside that overgrown house."

"…Little secret, you say?" the butler inquired. He couldn't mean…

"Why, that lovely shinigami, of course." He paused, seeing Sebastian's new frown, and grinned toothily. "Oh, don't worry, I will not tell anyone. I just thought he would like this." The nameless man lifted his lose hand to show the object.

Sebastian observed the hand presented, holding an object that was pulled from the pocket before. It was a small doll made of cotton, it seemed, just a bit smaller than any grown man's palm, adorned with a tiny black, frilly dress and a small matching black bonnet. It had two little blue buttons where the eyes would be and straight black yarn for hair. It appeared to be a little girl in the shape of a cotton doll.

"You…think he would like a doll?" Sebastian asked, slightly confused.

"No, no. Not _a_ doll, _this_ doll, silly butler," the pensive man corrected, smiling again. "I know he will like it, definitely, but don't say someone gave it to you, don't ever mention that you saw me. You can say anything else, but do not mention me." He handed the cute doll to Sebastian, offered a more humble smile and parted, vanishing into the forest.

Sebastian was left holding the stray doll alone. He stared at it for a second, trying to understand the nameless man's intention. It was old and worn, not in any good condition upon closer inspection. There was a bit of tweaking he could easily do to restore it to a more acceptable state. Whoever he had just met obviously has been keeping an eye on both him and Grell.

Interesting.

Interesting how he couldn't sense that being at all. As if he didn't exist.

* * *

><p>He knocked once, twice, and then entered, addressing the host of the room with a friendly smile.<p>

"Grell, I have returned and—"

The room was in _chaos_. Literal chaos and, counting even the milliseconds, exactly nine minutes had passed since he left.

The spoken cards last mentioned were actually _stuck_ on the ceiling, that much was apparent. From there it kept looking worse and worse, leaving Sebastian to look sullen as the temperature of the room lowered a couple of degrees with his disbelief.

The bedcovers disappeared—well, if you call pulled under the bed and ripped to bits, wool everywhere, disappearing. The window curtains were twisted and shaped like an extravagant embroidery design, rips here and there, while the windows themselves had some cracks and smudge lines, in diagonal direction. The armoire laid fallen on the ground, wood cracked (so it hinted that it had been pushed down), the scattered clothes spewing from inside, mimicking spilled milk.

Every single one of the cabinets' drawers beside the bed were pulled out, stacked like a short tower, and its contents draped over the naked and still recognizable bed, mostly simple articles of clothing, few hairpins, a hand mirror and forgotten cosmetics from the last guest that resided here. The walls had thin angry lines of red etched over them, these in all directions, sometimes interlocking. How the red lines were made, Sebastian didn't know, but it could either be nail polish, paint, or blood. He hoped it was nail polish. Had the man in question bounced off the walls and become _arachnid_ to cause this?

Thankfully, the dressing table was untouched, or maybe Grell didn't get to touch it yet.

_Speaking of, where is that infernal cross dresser?_

He curved his head, but the redhead was nowhere in sight. _Did he go out?_

"_Tee-hee_."

_No, still here._

"Grell…where in Hell's glory are you?" Sebastian huffed, seeping anger flowing in his voice, even though that smile was still painted on his face.

"_Guess_." A sultry voice cooed out, somewhat muffled in the room.

It was enough to tell his location, even as enraged as he was. Sebastian headed to the bed, fixed his hands upon the mattress and hoisted it up. Below it was none other than Grell with a short gasp, who allegedly decided to rest between the plush mattress and the bottom wooden platform meant to hold it, impossibly capable of hiding him and not making a noticeable dent as he lay squished there, apparently snug and fine.

Grell sweatdropped at the demon's discovery.

"Oops."

One bruised head later, Grell stood in a corner of the room with a pout, like a punished child, as Sebastian made the finishing touches to the room, dusting out the freshly cleaned windows. He patched the chaotic room like new in a matter of seconds, given his demonic abilities (never before had he been so glad to have the ability of _manifestation_), after giving the guilty reaper a good thwack in the head.

Grell may have complained, shouting words like '_how rude'_ and '_no way to treat a lady'_, but in Sebastian's personal opinion, no lady goes around destroying things, bringing about chaos and whatnot.

Very unladylike.

"_Sebby~_, I warned you to not leave me alone…meanie…"

The grim frown on Grell's features caused only a pang of pity in Sebastian's composure, which he failed to sign off with a sigh. "Do try to control yourself in the future, Grell."

The redhead grumbled under his breath, but he agreed nonetheless. He seated himself luxuriously in the bed's edge, fumbling with his red strands, still tangled and untamed. Sebastian pondered for only a moment before stepping across the room to one drawer and pulling from its dwelling an adequate, unused comb.

Grell had yet to notice his intention, until he jerked forward when it brushed part of his unkempt mane. Sebastian chuckled to himself once the squirming shinigami sat still. He had understood Sebastian's intentions and accepted the gesture. Grell _did_ hate having his hair all tousled and messy.

Sebastian was careful of the treatment, grabbing part of the long tresses with one hand and starting to comb with the other bit by bit, beginning with the ends—because he once read somewhere it helped lessen the tangles, rather than starting from the roots where they could bundle together as he raked down. He slowly went higher and higher as he straightened the mess of bloody colors, patient in the act.

Grell lavished in the feel of a cool gloved hand that lightly pat his head as Sebastian finished the left side and began with the middle.

How the perky reaper managed to tame it every day was a wonder.

"Hey, Sebas-_chan_," he heard Grell say brightly, "You're awfully good at everything, aren't you?"

"Well, I haven't done every task possible yet to know so, but yes, so far, I am very vexed at right around every assignment," he answered genuinely.

While he combed away, Sebastian remembered the hidden object inside his waistcoat and finished his task, the long red crown showing its usual panache. Thinking over how to phrase his words, he lightly tapped Grell to turn. The reaper did so with a dazed look, already beginning to play with the new straightened locks.

Sebastian reached into his inner pocket as he began to speak, eyes casted downward to the search.

"Do remember to take better care of this next time."

He pulled out last night's necklace, which made Grell cheery with a blush in seconds as he took it and began to wrap the jeweled necklace over his neck.

"S-sorry," he gasped out in embarrassment. He couldn't go losing gifts like that, especially in such a short amount of time, "I promise to!"

"And," the butler added, but never finished, as he started a new search inside the pockets. He quickly found the object and took it out for Grell.

It was the strange man's toy.

He gripped the little doll cautiously, patting the bonnet before stretching his hand forward for the reaper to see.

Grell first reaction was a slow one, approaching the interesting doll vigilantly. He knitted his eyebrows together, forming a soft perplexed frown. He was inspecting the doll with a wary finger, tenderly caressing the lace of the tiny dress. He seemed to be deep in thought as he stared, before taking the figure and, strangely enough, inhaling its perfumed cloth. He released the breath held and his eyes drooped once more.

An almost anguished expression was seen from him, gazing past the toy in his hands.

"Where…did you get this?" His voice came out low as a whisper, still contemplating the small girl.

Sebastian didn't answer immediately. He took a couple of breaths before answering, in a twist of truth, "I came across it while I was disposing of the trespassers." Within technicalities, it _was_ the truth. But Grell must have been too focused with the toy in hand to ask further questions. He eyed the doll as one would a newborn child. With care and wonder.

"This…I remember this…I-I remember her Sebby!" He perked up instantly for a moment from his woe, stumbling with his words. "This is…Itsy, my little doll. I remember her little blue button eyes, and the frilly black dress, too!"

The chipper smile growing on him was reassuring, but green eyes darkened marginally as he paused to look intensely into every detail of the doll he called Itsy.

"I know, mother had made her for me. I remember her, she looked just like Itsy—well, except for the size, obviously. But I don't understand…why are you here? It's not right…I think you were burned…or buried…I can't recall, only Itsy and how she looked like mother."

Sebastian contemplated the odd sort of emotions reflecting on Grell. It was a mixture of happiness and sorrow, brewed together like wine with a pinch of guarded sentiment. How he wished to see the thoughts burning inside the reaper. Grell might not understand, but there was much more Sebastian couldn't by himself. If he mentioned a mother, did he mean from the time when he was human, from when he was alive?

Past experience taught him that before a shinigami was born, a human had to die. He didn't know much detail about it, but this was the primary thought. Grell had never mentioned such things about the past before his present, so the demon assumed those memories were reset, along with the soul. He never thought to ask and confirm, as it would be impolite, but now he understood it was true. Grell didn't remember of a time before his current occupation as a shinigami.

But what concerned him the most was how that bizarre being knew of Grell's human past. That doll was proof of it.

Grell stopped the adoration he gave Itsy and looked toward Sebastian. He would do his research, given on his observations, on that person later.

"But I remembered something, Sebby. I think that's good, right?" he asked, fishing for agreement, and some explanation he knew the butler couldn't provide.

"Yes, I suppose so." Grell smiled brightly, the words enough to cease the unease. As he relaxed, a new idea flew across his mind.

"I know! You can have Itsy!" Sebastian was surprised at first, Grell could tell, even if it didn't show. He went to quickly explain, "You gave me such a nice present yesterday, I wanted to give you something meaningful, even if you didn't expect a gift in return—but I don't have much that I can give. But Itsy, I know she's important to me, or at least the most important thing I have, so I want you to have her. I trust that you will take care of her. It's like a small piece of me…or what _was_ me."

The token of gratitude would be, in this case, the precious little doll. It was offered to him as a present, a thank you, and a memento of sorts. Sebastian knew that much. It could be foretelling a future event, because why now, of all times, would a man appear, seemingly from nowhere, to simply return a doll to a _reaper?_ Something was off with that doll, _and_ the mysterious stranger, but he would accept it as Grell's precious gift.

Perhaps, some time later, he would explain to his partner that it was given to him by _someone,_ so it would be returned to its proper owner. Later he would make all the questions.

For now, he'll pretend ignorance.

"Thank you, I will make sure it–_she_ is properly attended to for as long as she is in my hands." He reclaimed Itsy, becoming adjusted to referring it in the feminine pronoun, for Grell. He never quite understood why humans distinguished inanimate objects and gave them life, in their minds. One of the many things he probably never will.

Itsy, as she was properly named, was the first phase that would unravel a series of events.

Things were about to change.


	5. Attached to you

_A/N: Let the plot bunny commence!_

* * *

><p>"Do be careful," a velvety voice whispered. Lit candelabras held by the sleepless demon warded off the darkness.<p>

The sun had already set by the time Grell awoke from his short catnap, yawning and stretching like the animal it mentioned.

Sebastian had persisted on it over and over for him to fully rest and gain the energy from the prior night, even though it was unnecessary, Grell's body well rested from the previous three naps. Sometimes that butler was just too cautious when it came to returning him back to the Shinigami Realm in one indistinguishable piece, and even more now. He was suspecting that somehow the others could just _smell_ him off the reaper's skin.

Grell stepped out into the dim hallway and straightened the creases on his borrowed clothes. Well into the afternoon, after being fed some wonderful dish whose name he had not paid much attention to remember, Sebastian had brought him ill-fitting clothes, a bit big for his small frame. His lover had promised on exchanging them with the clothes the shinigami came with –which were deemed ineffective to ward off the cold night air– after returning safely to his home, but Grell didn't mind leaving them in the young boy's heavily protected manor. He would return for them the next month.

At the moment though, he wished he had something better. The proper casual suit that was hardly ever used by the butler –for disguises, requested by Ciel– hung too loosely for his tastes. The baggy trousers were especially despised then and there, catching with his feet and causing a stumble every few steps with his red heels. A couple of curses drifted silently out of his petite lips.

No matter the clothes, he insisted on keeping those heels.

He cannot and _will_ not be separated from high-heeled shoes. It was almost like a trademark of his. That, and his red-framed glasses adorned with skulls and a chain, plus his former mistress's coat. But both were absent at the time.

Sebastian started his walk downstairs, guiding the redhead back to the mansion's entrance hall with the grace of a purebred stallion. He abruptly halted, peculiarly, seeing his young master who had stood silent on the broad stairway, seemingly waiting for him in his nightclothes.

Ciel wore such a scornful frown for someone in a cute nightshirt. Grell couldn't help but smile with amusement from behind the tall butler at the sight of the boy grasping at his clothes with puny hands for warmth, and failing in the cold night.

"Is something wrong, young master? You are supposed to be in deep sleep by now."

A small gruff escaped the child. "I know already, I just wanted to confirm with my eyes that the _beast_ was leaving," he finished, glaring at the shinigami with his mismatched eyes.

Grell was about to rebut with an equally insulting reply, but he was cut off short by a raised hand. "Now, now, master, it is not Grell's fault he's vocal."

At the words, the boy flushed slightly. "Y-yes it is! Now make sure it doesn't happen again!" Ciel yelled with a hushed voice, not wanting any of the disturbed servants to butt in.

Confused, Grell asked for some explanation in the ordeal. "I beg your pardon?"

"Ah, I apologize," Sebastian cut in, "The true reason you stayed cooped up in a room all day with me wasn't just because the young master didn't desire your company, or for you to be seen by anyone, but more or less because he was too embarrassed to face you after being woken up by our _activities_." The subtle stress on the last word cleared his doubt, and soon Grell sported a blush equal to Ciel's own.

"Oh…I-I see," Grell stuttered out uncannily, feeling _very_ flustered over being overheard last night.

He didn't quite enjoy it when others butted into his sex life. The only person allowed to brag, express and mention his overactive libido was himself–and he frequently did. _No one else_ could do so without receiving a baneful glare, promising a proper, as Will would say, _'disciplinary action'_. There may be some myth-turned-fact rumors about Grell's open ways, and _those_ he hated with passion. He wasn't anyone's lapdog.

Well, except for his two favorite men. And only _Sebastian_ was permitted to _toy_ with him.

Thinking about the previous, a stray thought fluttered into his head about the boy's fuss. If he recalled correctly, Ciel slept in the opposite end of the mansion, which made him wonder with slight uneasiness if any other residents overheard besides the brat.

Now _that_ would be embarrassing.

He unconsciously toyed with the gifted necklace under his clothed neck. It was a new habit that shaped itself in the past hours when he felt ignored, seeing now that Ciel had started a chat with his butler about keeping quiet and taking care of needy pets. Grell plopped on Sebastian's shoulders with his arms, somewhat startling the butler in the process, in a successful attempt to regain voice in the conversation.

"Well, midget, if my uncensored cries of pleasure bother you that much, I promise not to be so loud. Is that fine with you?" His chin hovered over the sturdy shoulder supporting his hands as his eyebrows lifted in mock consideration. The irked tone he carried was not convincing, but Ciel took the chance anyway.

"As long as you keep your word, fine. And I'm not a midget! I'm only thirteen," Ciel retorted, angry once again at the short comment.

"You're short for thirteen…midget." Throwing kindle in the growing flame, as always.

Now it was Sebastian's turn to be neglected between the verbal war, literally, in between. He didn't understand it, but Grell had a strange unsurpassable ability to lower anyone down to his level and win his childish discussions, mostly because no one could defeat this reaper when it came to acting like a kid.

And he was fighting one. It was his master, but Ciel was still a spoiled child –brat, he was tempted to correct, but left it out.

"Now, now," the butler had hushed, separating the two with his arms before it turned into an unruly brawl. "Relax, young master, I shall depart with Grell now. But you must head back into bed, being as late as it is. You have a full day tomorrow."

They both grunted in unison, and defeat, before deciding the carpeting was a much more interesting subject than looking at each other's faces. Sebastian descended to the exit with Grell still locked onto his shoulders possessively, as Ciel brushed them off and began his walk back upstairs into his room, where a cozy, inviting bed awaited for him. Nothing to wake him tonight.

* * *

><p>The night was indeed surprisingly cold for the season, but to the uncaring demon, it was an acceptable temperature. Like any other degree.<p>

Grell, on the other hand, was caught between ending the walk hastily to save what was left of his body heat and resisting the urge to shiver involuntarily for the cause of spending just seconds more with his Sebastian. Thankfully, the butler had noticed this and, with an indifferent air, wrapped one arm around Grell's ribs to help the shivering reaper gain some heat. It may not have worked in the way he intended, but for Grell, it was more than enough to be pressed snuggly against the taller man's side to forget about the cold.

Since a shinigami only needed to form a simple unnoticeable portal –for human eyes– to return to the Shinigami Realm, it was a regrettably brief stroll, nonetheless. And because a demon could be easily detected if he stayed for too long in the Realm's perimeter, Sebastian had to say his goodbyes quickly, or risk being discovered not only entering a forbidden area, but for Grell's sake and what was left of his tarnished reputation.

It isn't a light matter here, to be involved with demons and have them on your doorstep.

They had stepped through the portal Grell made and emerged on the other side with the Shinigami dormitories not too far, but far enough to assure no one would see them. Sebastian remained near the portal's entrance as he began a list for the shorter man.

"Grell, remember the necklace next time you go to bed, I won't be here to remind you to take it off. And I expect those clothes to be pressed and returned as they are the next time we meet. Do try to wake up early, eat your breakfast—and _don't_ give me the 'it's not as good as your food' excuse," he ranted, before Grell even squeaked the words. "I know you want to watch your weight, but there's no need to starve yourself for it, really. I don't want your foolish diets to hinder your work or health, either. Keep from getting into trouble, or there won't be any chocolate treats for you."

Grell remained obediently listening to the set of orders from the butler, who spoke as fast as he could manage while the words were still interpretable.

"And," he added with a smile, "Do be careful. I…worry for your wellbeing. Keep from getting into trouble," he said, in a gentler tone, but still keeping a stern pose. The ever-so-watchful man gathered a hand to grip the other's lowered chin, tossing some red strands about as he lifted his head to look into sullen green eyes. "I'm not trying to scold you, Grell, I'm concerned about you. Don't forget that, alright?"

The reaper could feel a pink blush creep up his cheeks, wanting to stay with the warm touch of his beloved demon on his face just a minute longer, hating that it couldn't last that long before his presence was known. He had to be away from his love for so long, it was all just unfair!

"O-okay," he finally answered, feeling the hand softly brush down and away from his chin, watching Sebastian step back into the portal and wave him a hand. "W-wait!"

He saw the figure stop and twist back, his head directed at Grell. "Yes?"

The redhead hurried to the puzzled Sebastian and yanked him fiercely down by the tie to give him a fleeting but lasting kiss on the lips. He flashed a tired sharp smile at him, pushing the butler back out the portal. "Good night!"

And with that, the man disappeared along with the dark ethereal glow of the gateway, but not before an airy chuckle was heard through it. Grell stood there for some time, already beginning to miss the loveable sadistic sweetheart, and very pleased to leave him a farewell kiss.

He sighed at his own antics and rushed toward the dormitories with haste, finally recognizing just how late it was, and having to work tomorrow.

The long-forgotten horrid clothes fluttered in the chilled wind as he sped to his room, all the while grinning like a school girl flaunting over his _beau_.

* * *

><p>A long sigh could have been heard echoing inside the small space. For the person who had sat sluggishly on the chair, it was one simple mission, three souls to collect today. Grell skimmed a few long-winded words in the death list, they were not interesting people. <em>Is today a slow day?<em> Grell thought for a moment. _Well, it has been a slow month…_

The hallways were as bland as they always were, the longhaired shinigami passing by a few cubicles of some reapers writing reports on their collected souls, his lustrous red coat rippling behind him with every step. The reaper was back to wearing his usual improper clothing, a routine he had become accustomed to.

Ah, paperwork, his arch-nemesis. He'll march onto that battlefield later.

His vision had focused on the familiar wooden door, closed, as it always was: William's office. Just as Grell was about to enter the wonderful room, uninvited as always, a little voice in his head nagged him to do his work, to go collect the three ordinary souls, like he should.

Now, normally this voice was ignored, and he would enter with a swish of his red coat, a glamorous pose in the center, and a call of a four-letter nickname that never seized to be hated. But today, the idea was not as tempting as it always was.

In the past couple of months, Grell found himself spending less time with his favorite supervisor and more time doing work. It was strange, actually doing his given duty, but he only did so as his part of the deal for his monthly meetings, the only way to prevent the suspicious eye from falling on his back to see where the reaper would go every day, or where he escaped to in the weekends. To keep his relationship a secret, his patience was tested, and rewarded, but it seemed to affect the time he would dedicate to Will, since now he no longer had 'free time'. Now it was 'work time', _all_ the time.

Grell pushed his pondering out with a shrug, and passed by the office to complete today's assignment.

He didn't know why _not_ thinking about it bothered him more than it should.

In the meantime, William was too busy preoccupied reviewing and signing papers to notice the shadow of a distinct redhead outside his door, reflecting. Although, it wasn't the smell of ink or the sight of mounting papers that was keeping his mind absorbed at the moment. It was that particular person that just left his notice to do his job bouncing in his head.

Perhaps because today was the day after Grell's day-off, and the feminine man would always burst into his workspace early morning. Always, as in, _always_. It was already ten past two, well over an hour late, if he included those outbursts in schedule.

Which he did.

And he hated himself for it.

William released a nervous sigh, pinching his brow with his worn writing hand, too distracted by his mind to continue working. _Why do I miss that chaotic mess so much?_

* * *

><p>One report filled and ready to be delivered! There was happiness written over his powdered face with the job done.<p>

Grell felt pride in completing his assignment so quickly, and wondered if his dear Sebastian would also be proud of him for completing it diligently. Not to mention on his first day back from his one-day vacation!

_Ah, my Sebas-chan…I want to see you already! I wish I could just carry you in my pocket and take you with me everywhere…_

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of loud approaching footsteps, the empty workspace making it more of a thundering trample. The echo of the marble floor made everything so much louder—

"Hi there, Grell-sempai!" a perky voice sounded into his cubicle, peeking a blond head into the limited space. Grell smiled back at his subordinate, whose glasses hung loosely on his nose with his head angled so.

"Hello, _Ronnie_," he greeted with an equally cheerful tone. "And how's my favorite little newbie?"

Ronald laughed meekly at the comment. "Aw, Grell-sempai! I told you not to call me that! I'll lose the little respect I've build up with everybody if you give me cute nicknames. Plus, I won't get any girls if they think I'm just 'cute'!"

They shared a short laugh, Grell waving a dismissive hand at his lively friend. Oh how he loved his little flirtatious underling. In a brotherly manner, mind you. "Now, now, Ronnie, you know it's what I _do_~. You should be grateful instead, I only give nicknames to people I like, silly!" the superior gleamed, patting the young'un's plush golden locks like one would a small child. "And I trust that you can get any girl you'd like with that silver tongue of yours, even if you're _cute_, which you are, I have to say~!"

"Well, then I don't know whether to feel honored or embarrassed, sempai…you praise me too much!" the two-toned hair bounced slightly as he chortled, prying the friendly hand away from his head. "Oh! And William-sempai said he wanted to see you…?"

"He does?" Grell inquired, Ronald answering with a curt nod. That was odd, to be called in by Will. He regularly tried his best to avoid Grell during the day, since he usually came into the office on his own accord. Perhaps there was something his senior 'playmate' needed to remind him of, but couldn't since he had not visited William today.

"Then I guess I'll go see what my Will wants," Grell affirmed, stepping out of his cubicle and giving Ronald a friendly jab on the shoulder. "And your glasses are falling!"

He ignored the yelp coming from the blond hunched down to prevent them from hitting the ground, and went on his way to William's office with a fluid bounce.

By the time he reached the destination, he was a full earshot away from the younger's profanities for not telling him sooner about the mishap. He entered the organized space sporting one of his famous grins, mindful of never knocking. Grell never did knock when he entered, that would mean acknowledging a door that commanded him to stop and wait, to obey boundaries.

_All the world's a stage_ as his favorite poet would kindly put it, and with doors, his part was not that of a timid sycophant. That–being all shy and blunders–was toward his lover. There was no such thing as a closed door for Grell, plain and simple, and that did not only apply to physical entrances.

"You called?"

* * *

><p>The office seemed to become narrower as he continued to query his actions, and his soon-to-be actions. William propped his head over his tangled fingers, elbows resting on the hardwood desk as a sharp sigh escaped his tense lungs.<p>

What was he thinking?

To call in Sutcliff only to make sure he had come to work as mandatory, or should he correct now, have his embellishing presence around? He was positive the singular redhead was just doing his daily assignments –a strange thought, but plausible– and that was _fine_. It meant less work for him to do, less wasted time on everyone's part, less time with that cheeky smirk that pulled his strings like a marionette on a play, less minutes spent in idle, useless chat from a heartwarming co-worker, less lewd comments and pleasant smiles directed to his persona, both duly brushed off but secretly welcomed and—and now his thoughts were beginning to _betray_ his self-control.

Had he truly just called in that careless creature because he felt a twinge of loneliness?

Yes, that's precisely what he just did.

He had been meticulously rehearsing his dialogue, choice of words, answers, even forming some questions of his own. Although he knew it would all burn up in shambles once that familiar form sprung into his workspace. Because whenever Grell came into the equation, logical reasoning flew out the window, and common sense preferred to stay quiet. It still helped to keep the mind occupied. Waiting could do worse than practicing mental visualization.

A soft click pried his attention away from the desk, his object of concentration for the past hour, and his eyes marginally widened, unexpectedly finding himself unprepared to see the buoyant reaper yet.

And, there it was, Reason fled the scene.

'You called?' he managed to catch, as the figure closed the door behind him, walked a short strut to the empty armchair facing him and made himself comfortable. William knew that the question was only rhetorical. He still couldn't help but offer his visitor a cause for his being here.

"Sutcliff, I believe you've been behaving stranger than your usual tendencies," he smoothed out with the usual business tone, diverting his hands' active movement by taking some files and straightening the pages.

"Oh? How so?" A few seconds of an awkward silence ensued, Grell only waiting as his superior slowly rubbed his forehead with gloved fingers after organizing the singular file.

"Stranger as in…normal," he said, and caught the confused look from the other. "You seem to be doing what you're supposed to do, it's unusual, that's all. I suspected you were…hiding something."

"Well…I've been 'doing what I'm supposed to do' for the past few months, you should be fine with it. In fact, I thought you would be _rejoicing_ by now," Grell stated, still confused with William's words, and slightly frightened that he might have discovered his secret. "Come on, what is it? That can't be _everything_," he tried, pushing the topic aside.

"Nonsense," he answered stiffly, not wanting to express anything just yet. He wasn't still quite sure _what_ he wanted to express, other than anxiety. "In another matter, how was yesterday? I expect you to have either slept in or taken a stroll out in London." Grell's attempt to change the topic failed, and William's succeeded.

"Ah…I didn't do much really…slept a lot," he said, eyes peering around clean corners and avoiding William's truth-seeking stare. It was _impossible_ to lie to those icy-green eyes. The clumsy answer raised the raven-haired reaper's curiosity. There was something he was hiding. Grell tended to shy away from looking at him when he played innocent.

"…I see, so you didn't cause any trouble in the human world?" His critical eye inspected the effeminate shinigami.

"Nothing big, at least," he replied with a shrug. It really didn't matter if he caused 'accidents' as long as they were small, not like he _did_ cause any.

"And I hope you didn't chase after any _vulgar creatures_, correct?" William hissed, disgusted by the thought of demons around London. He already knew of one vile, tame _hellion_ that wouldn't bother with Grell's coquettishness, and the mere thought of one manhandling Grell sent cold shivers up his spine. Wait, that didn't sound right… He had meant as in injuring his co-worker, yes. That was it. But why did he feel angered about that thought…

"Of course," Grell answered with a fickle twitch appearing on his lips, a mock grin.

Liar.

"Sutcliff, I know you're lying," the upset senior pointed out, earning a surprised look from the other. "You _did_ go after that _**pet**_."

"S-Sebby's not a pet! He's…just raising his cattle, in a word, it's in his nature to eat…" Grell shyly spoke, daring at first but losing its zest after seeing William's disapproving frown. He had chuckled on cattle, thinking of Ciel as a piece of fresh, tantalizing meat.

"Your defending it proves you _have_ been getting attached. And eating human souls is no laughing matter, Sutcliff!" William flared with anger towards Grell's carelessness, "You know how much trouble it gives us! Honestly…I wonder what is it about the impossible-to-get kind of man that attracts you so. You should know by now that you're only going to hurt yourself, what with that bad taste in men. Wagging your tail around until someone pets you…you behave like a common…seductress, a _harlot_." Grell had begun to frown by the end of his sentence, angrily.

William was astounded by his own words, but kept his serious mask. He had not meant to insult Grell like he did, right then, even without the crude, vulgar language youngsters used that would have made this much worse. He usually kept an objective view on things, and yet it had felt so natural to show his displeasure like that. With spite. With that demon's pet name mentioned, his anger overflowed…why? It shouldn't have bothered him as much, but it did. He had immediately regretted it the instant those last words spilled out, but too late, the mercurial reaper was fuming red.

"T-then loving you is _'bad taste'?_ I have to fully agree then!" Grell yelled hotly, slamming his fists down against the cold surface of the desk between them. The furious man had begun to pant with rage. He just couldn't believe what he had been told—a _harlot?_ It was completely uncalled for.

The impact caught all of Will's attention, bubbling tension showing in his face, for once. "You know," Grell continued with simmering anger, "Lately all you ever do is ignore me, or just wave a hand at me, like baggage that got stuck with you a-and you just carry it around because it's your _job_ or something! I'm not a child to be hushed up, and I'm _not_ some brothel whore! How _dare_ you say that to my face! I ought to just…just—"

The words didn't come out as Grell violently shoved the chair back with his stand, almost enough to topple it over. Leaning over the desk, shadowing the pulled back form of the startled man, Grell looked mightily frightful for him, something William rarely got to see these days.

"You think you can just say what you want and get away with it? I'm getting tired of your _pushing around!_" he emphasized by pushing William over the shoulders back into his larger chair, only possible with him crawling closer over the large desk, and tipping over small stacks of papers in the process. He gripped at the black fabric, bringing the tousled reaper back up, close. "You know, you never really look at me, I mean _look_ at me. Y-you…do you know how much that _hurts_?"

Grell's eyes had flashed with pure anger, but they glistened with hot tears threatening to be shed. He looked into the cold, unchanging eyes…and saw them _soften_.

Odd, it was, looking into those emerald eyes stare back, for the first time showing some humanity. Then they melted more, looking down, as if ashamed, until those glass-green eyes had lost all their icy touch. His mask had been removed, revealing…sadness, a feeling mixed from guilt and sorrow.

"I do…and I'm sorry. I had not—I didn't mean that…Grell." He held the hands that had gripped him so tightly, entrancing them to slacken, remain in that fragile hold. Grell sat down, legs pulled back under him in a girlish pose over the wooden surface as a tamed lion, entwined hands hovered over his knees. He was so fascinated by this new Will, if he could call him that. William looked dejected with vivid shame. "I…I don't know what came over me, I just felt angry…" His sight fell downward then, head lolling close to Grell's stomach.

"Angry…? Angry at what?" Grell whispered so dimly, not wishing to scare away his William's sudden naked emotion.

_Why _had_ I been angry? _William couldn't help but question himself, furrowing his brow. He had felt fine at the beginning, glad, even, after witnessing Grell's casual entrance. He had questioned himself if there was actually anything wrong and not just his imagination.

It wasn't, apparently, after seeing the redhead's restrained gestures and soon afterwards sensing a lie from his co-worker. Enmity rose in him then, but the lie itself had not bothered him. The _focus_ behind the lie did. Grell had been fraternizing with a certain being he so _despised_…he was well aware of how kindly Grell had spoken of _him_, like he truly cared and had felt offended for him.

There wasn't any more venom in William's thoughts the second time he thought 'him'. He was digesting morosely that Grell defended that demon called Sebastian. He didn't want to continue to feel the painful pinch in his chest, twisting hard. What was that feeling that erupted…when he couldn't swallow a lump formed in his throat? It halted his speech, made him want to both take and push away the person he most cared about, disgusted by the thought of someone else, as if that _beast_ was right there in the room about to swipe the loveable creature he was holding…such a _complicated feeling_…

It wasn't anger, no. Anger could begin to describe it though, but it's only a part of it. Misery? No, he didn't feel miserable, perhaps a bit of dread instead. Unhappiness, maybe. It was more of a frustrating sort of emotion, he just couldn't quite _picture_ it. William wasn't experienced with handling emotions.

The pensive man stopped and noticed he had been quiet for a while. Grell still waited for some form of an explanation, still watched him ponder and muse to himself. That was impolite, William thought, to leave someone without an answer to a question. But what kind of answer could he _give?_ That he had been _angry_ about Sebastian? Oh, _please_, that sounded like…

Jealousy.

_I was jealous_, he concluded, overwhelmed by his own answer. _I was jealous…because you never speak about me like that. Because you speak like a love-struck _dimwit_ about him. Like you used to…about _me_._

"Is that all?" he heard above his head, "You were jealous?" William shot his eyes open so fast, dots danced at the edge of his sight. Had he just said that _out loud?_ A light pink colored his face.

"…If I say yes, will you laugh?" he asked, thankful that his head had been lowered enough to hide the blush.

"No, I won't laugh." Grell softly gripped the hands still holding his own earnestly.

"Then…yes," he barely whispered, as if it was a shameful secret no one should ever hear. A soft chuckle bubbled near his ear. A very cherubic, sweet laugh. "You said you wouldn't laugh," he hissed, bluffing agitation, not really bothered by the soft giggling rippling the air.

"I'm sorry, it's just so hard _not_ to! I didn't think Will was capable of showing such _human_ emotions," he continued to giggle, perching his chin above the black, combed tresses of William's head. The weight of the other's head on him pressed his face to the red-striped ribbon tied neatly on a white collar, one end tickling his nose.

"Only _you_ manage to bring that out of me…I suppose that's why I love you…" he breathed out, shakily.

The room grew quiet as the last breath was taken. Surely the echo of a pin drop could have been heard in the closed office. No one breathed for a long moment, Grell caught with a shocked expression and William frozen in his seat, not quite paralyzed by what he said. He had _wanted_ to tell Grell that. The pregnant silence was deafening, but the weight in the superior's chest lifted suddenly, after saying it. It was unexpected, yet it felt so good finally expressing that awkwardly-growing hidden love. Almost…fitting. Grell was the first to break the stiff peace.

"Y-you what?" Grell shrieked as gently as he could, pulling himself back enough to look at the man below him. Had his ears deceived him?

William spoke with a voice much firmer and resolved than he thought he could manage, "Yes, I acknowledge it completely, I really _do_ love you. But you better not go around saying that, I feel _uncouth_ as it is," he added, sugarcoating his sense of work to the redhead's gleaming features. Love. Yes, that was what he felt, but it didn't mean he could go around painting rainbows and the sky pink.

He had practically done that just now to Grell. That blissful smile adorning his face was simply worth it.

"Okay~," he singed, dismounting the desk and using an empty lap as his seat cushion. William's lap, of course.

William didn't complain, nor did he stiffen when a pair of arms fixed themselves around his neck. He was ten times more unconformable but gave the shorter reaper permission, nevertheless. Why? He didn't dare ask himself.

The sweet fragrance of a lavender flower permeated his senses, a wonderful aroma coming from the red tresses enveloping him. "And since when, pray tell, have you felt this way, about _moi__?_"

The impetuous question was for an innocent reason. Grell only wanted to know how long Will kept that a secret. It seemed stubborn to Grell for the man to keep those emotions bottled up when he felt the same way, and _that_ was no secret to _anyone_.

"I'm not sure… I don't recall when or how it started," he answered, contemplating. "I can't say that I know, I apologize."

_So he _has_ been keeping his feelings a secret all this time!_ Grell flushed, somewhat frustrated. "Then…how come you never said anything?" he asked, some bitterness in his tone.

"I-I…" William stuttered, uncharacteristically. He didn't have a concrete answer for that. "Because…"

It struck Grell then like a wall. The feeling, as he observed the other's stubbornness, or what he always _mistook_ for stubbornness. He felt so _stupid_ for even _thinking_ Will had that stubborn a person.

It was shyness. William was a work-orientated person, and emotions were another completely different train of thought for him. But where he lacked in expression, he made up with frigid iciness. Making barriers were it became unnecessary to demonstrate any emotion. He had always been a few words shy of expressing himself, truly. The few feelings he displayed the most were discomfort, anger and dedication, if you could call dedication a feeling. Grell just never thought of considering that a man so respectable and upright was…_shy_. So wholeheartedly, unbelievably, _adorably_ shy.

"No, no!" Grell yelled out, interrupting Will's mental rambling. "I take it back, you don't need to answer." He brought a hand to cup the other's cheek, giving him a tiny kiss on the nose. "You don't need to answer," he repeated, lower.

"Then, if I can't answer you, I'll let my actions speak for me." He removed the hand cupping his face, brought his other hand to grip the back of Grell's head and pressed him closer, until there was no more space between them, face to face, taking his lips with his own. Grell's eyes widened, for a second, before slowly, gradually, closing, lost in the inviting warmth.

A soft kiss, it was, only remaining with their faces inclined, eyes closed. It wasn't the kind of passionate kiss two heated lovers would share in a private enclosure. It was the kind that spoke words without voice, a kind of warm embrace you have after being separated for a long time, a purely innocent caress, a search for warmth. Supple, yet zealous…a cool touch, invigorating enough to leave one breathless, both delicate and heavy. So similar to the vehemence of fire on a dead winter's night.

It was William.

It was forgiveness.

They broke off, faintly, Grell holding onto his cherishing partner in a hug, burrowing his face in a clothed neck. A deep sigh was muffled into the embrace.

"Did that tell you anything?"

"Yes," Grell drowned into the black cloth, pulling back to look into the mirrored eyes. _That you're sorry for always hurting me,_ he thought. _That you never meant to do so, not in a grave way. You just end up worrying so much…you feel stupid about it._ A coy smile rose to his lips, "You really love me, don't you?"

A lengthy nod was his answer.

So _shy_, he was tempted to say in a flutter, but went against it. It might anger his love and ruin the moment, which might possibly never occur again. After all, it was the first time _ever_ that he saw such raw emotion from the laconic, reserved gentleman. Grell heard a slight cough, clearing a throat, and saw the other turn his face to the forgotten white sheets of his work.

Ah, and there it was, the mask returned. "Well…we've dawdled enough, Gre–Sutcliff," his blunder was noted but he continued, "You should go back to finish your work."

"Actually, I already finished for today," he pointed out, directly.

A second ever-pregnant silence began, interrupted by an awkward cough.

"…Then…would you mind waiting until I've finished mine?"

Grell stood up from his comfortable position, "Not at all." He had waited his whole immortal life and he could wait a little longer for Will.

His walk toward the door seemed strangely long, and the click of the door as he opened it pierced his ears harshly. Grell looked back to him, blew him an air kiss, his custom before leaving, and closed it behind him.

It was strange, how after he left, the happiness seemed to go with him. William felt alone in the room, once again, but this time, it wasn't the kind of loneness he felt before. It was a wanting loneness. Wanting that red warmth again, in his arms… By Gods, he felt _lonely only _a _second _after Grell left.

Grell was overjoyed, still a bit overwhelmed by the odd-timed confession, but so very elated by it, his mind was reeling. He supported himself on the wall next to the door, breathing audibly. This was so complicated…

What about Sebastian?


	6. To my Moon, the Sun

_A/N: I apologize if William seems OOC in some parts, but really, we've never seen him in love so, he might actually be IC and we don't know…other than that, I do everything in my power to keep him "Willified"._

* * *

><p>In the solace of the wide room, William stood and arranged his papers into the filing cabinet just behind him, finally finishing the day's work. Not that it took him that much time to do. He was greatly influenced, for once, to finish early, and not just to avoid the useless waste of time that is overtime. He had told the energetic bunch of bloody tresses to wait. For what reason, well, he hadn't really thought about it.<p>

William was currently planning on his excuse to treat his coworker-made-boyfriend —or should he say girlfriend?— to a nice dinner out in the human city. He was sure that Grell would like that.

After the tedious papers were properly arranged, he quietly paced to the door, tugging his black gloves tight over his fairly numbed work fingers. The man paused to press the formed creases on his lapels, afterwards grasping the door handle with one hand and further flattening his hair with the other, in his wholesome attempt to keep an ordered, proper appearance.

So it was with a start that he saw Grell just outside the door, bearing an equally startled expression.

"Um…sorry, I was thinking and—I must have wandered here," the redhead said meekly, childishly weaving his fingers around the hem of his waistcoat in a nervous gesture.

He truthfully had begun to wander around the cubicles, thinking about how he should handle the situation. Hearing a confession from Will was great…or at least it should have been, if it wasn't for the guilt seeped in his bones from cheating on his delectable demon.

_Well, technically I'm not cheating…yet,_ he thought with some naïve hope, although the reasonable part of his brain was disagreeing loudly. _But…I don't know what to do…_

William sidestepped around him and asked something as Grell's mind picked and prodded the thought. His ears perked up, half-processing the words.

"Then would you like to accompany me? It's still quite early, enough time to have a good meal, I suppose." William glanced back into the room and confirmed the time to be three minutes before the clock on the wall stroke five. An entire hour of free reign given on a paperwork day, unlike the odd hours of a busy reap. Grell stared openly at him hearing the proposal. "Where would you like to dine?" he added, fixing his gaze upon the shorter man, composed and straight-faced as always. Or as much as he could, given the situation.

Grell thought, for a second, before answering happily. "I know a good place!"

* * *

><p>"I would have assumed you preferred a…much more clamorous place."<p>

"Now, Will, you know I'm the romantic type. I _like_ classy places, too," he huffed, hands on his hips.

Pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, William noted the restaurant Grell had chosen seemed even _more_ aristocratic and elegant, and it was only _the entrance_. He sounded an approving hum, then felt a sturdy hand tug him forward by the arm.

"Come on, they have great meat!" Grell yelled as he towed the man inside with force.

Once they entered the establishment, one well-dressed waiter, upon sight of the transvestite, hurried to their position and welcomed them warmly.

"Good evening Mister Durless, would you like your usual reservation?" the brunette waiter asked with refined elegance as he patted down his white apron, obviously showing his endless fascination with the man's long red hair as he openly gazed ecstatically at the shined locks.

Grell gave a smile and a nod, pointing at the frozen William. "Ah, yes, of course, table-for-two."

The three of them walked silently around seated crowds of people chatting quietly, to a small table in a reserved corner. Grell earned a couple of stares over his flamboyant persona, all wondering if he was an actor in a play they were unfamiliar with, speculating with his unusual outward appearance. The waiter led them back to a well-lit window corner, private and warm looking.

A cloaked table was already waiting for them, fitted with two sets of silverware and a plate of buttered breads and scones in the middle to quench the initial hunger. The waiter produced one menu seemingly out of thin air as they each sat down, and presented it to William. He then excused himself to bring them fresh glasses.

As soon as the young waiter was out of earshot, William turned to Grell, confused.

"Mister Durless?" he questioned, receiving a dismissive wave of the redhead's hand.

"Oh, it's from when I was a human butler." He stared at Will's blank face. "The Jack the Ripper incident?"

"You shouldn't say that too loud," the senior responded too quickly. "It's a fresh memory for the humans."

Grell only waved at him again. "You know, there's a reason why this is my _usual reservation_. I've come here ever since I partnered with Madame Red and went on a 'killing spree', as the higher-ups like to day," the brightened reaper spoke, a tender tone overtaking when he mentioned the red mistress. "When she was still alive, we used to discuss our plans in this secluded corner, with me playing as Madame's brother for the occasion in my Shinigami form, and pretending to be going out to lunch or dinner. Of course in any other occasion we were together, I was her 'incompetent butler' in disguise, so the smart people wouldn't suspect us of anything strange. It's convenient, having two faces, literally.

"And don't fret," he continued. "No one will hear our conversation, if we watch our tone. I've practiced enough times to know when someone could listen or not."

Listening to his reminiscing, William couldn't help but notice the kind way in which Grell referred the other half of Jack the Ripper. He knew the former baroness held a special place in his heart, especially since her red coat was still on his shoulders. Grell was the kind of person who only kept and cared for valuable things. Anything common and replaceable was treated sloppily and shallowly.

Soon after Grell finished his walk down memory lane, the waiter decided to bring the promised glasses of water, eager to take the order from one valued customer and his acquaintance. Grell, being familiar with the restaurant's menu, ordered the stake bloody as _hell_, one of his favorite dishes, accompanied by chips*, feeling a little craving for a salty snack.

As the waiter wrote down the order, Grell glanced at his troubled company who was reading his options calmly, and decided to order off the top of his head something that William might enjoy: fish. With that, a smoked salmon with a serving of potato salad was requested.

Always one for a zesty drink, an 1884 Laurent-Perrier* champagne bottle was added into the order.

The young brunette took the menu and pardoned himself to place the order with the chef, leaving the two once again to chat idly.

"There was no need to order for me…Grell," William began, some hesitation on using the other's first name. They were, after all, outside of work, but it was still uncomfortable to speak in a casual environment for him. It was uncomfortable for him to call someone by their given name.

"But you don't know this place, and I've tasted at least once everything on the menu. If my memory serves to be correct, you like seafood, and the salmon here is simply _excellent_." He gave a childish pout to his associate, fishing for praise.

At that, Will gave a long sigh. "Honestly… Fine, it was thoughtful of you. I'll give you credit, I _am_ fond of seafood." A girlish giggle exploded from the redhead. "What?"

"Oh, _nothing~_," he sang while fiddling with his hair, "I was just thinking that I probably know you more than you know yourself, is all," Grell replied placidly, holding back another fit of giggles by covering his mouth. He extended one hand to take a buttered scone and proceeded to devour it greedily, with manners, of course.

"Oh?" was all William said, half-doubtful, half-convinced. It _was_ Grell.

"Yes, Will, I'm positive."

Grell promptly sat much more comfortably, bringing up his right leg to limp on top of his other leg's knee and settling his head on an open palm, elbow perched on the table. His red hair had pooled over his shoulders in his inclined pose, barely brushing against the white tablecloth.

"Indulge me," he requested, interested in Grell's confident boasting.

"Let's see…" he paused with a hum, "Well, for one, you're not a morning person, that's why you're always so grumpy at the start of the day. You…hate it when someone interrupts you when you're talking, and you also hate it when your office is rearranged –mostly by _me,_ I know– because you like being in complete control of things, even _facial_ _expressions_…" At that, William's eye visibly twitched. Grell pretended to not notice it, "You also like the outdoors, but only as a view, you actually can't stand being outside of a city for too long. You have no color shirts, pants, ties or underwear—and yes, I've checked. No need to ask me how I know _that, _dear—only shades of black, white or gray, even though your favorite color is auburn, but I can't fathom why, it's such a dull red…

"Besides your sterile taste in clothing, you show absolutely no interest in anything other than work. It's always doing work, revising work or bugging others about _their_ work…and you have no hobbies, well except for bird watching. Oh! Speaking of birds, I believe you're quite fond of homing pigeons* because of their convenient long distance flight capabilities. Or something related to travel. Right?"

"…I see," was all William managed. He had expected Grell to know a considerable amount of information about his being, just as he had his bit of knowledge concerning the effeminate shinigami. They _have _known each other since their days in the academy, but the raven-haired superior had been sincerely surprised, and impressed. Perhaps even _unsettled_.

Although, other than that, he felt a tad bit embarrassed being under Grell's microscope like that.

"Say…how do you know all that?"

Grell's blithe grin had faltered for a second, before returning with more vigor. "Isn't it obvious? Because _I love you_."

William gave a blank stare. Pure confusion, and Grell felt half-infatuated, half-exasperated at him.

"It's only natural for someone to want to know everything about the one they love, Will. That's why I always watch you. It's a special feeling, or satisfaction, I guess, when you learn something no one else knows, and then you just want to keep watching and learning, like reading a book, until there's nothing left to grasp. I think that's impossible though, to know _everything,_ about a person I mean," at this he shrugged almost casually, as if dismissing the whole thing, and perked up rather quickly for his next words. "Still, that won't stop a victim of Cupid's golden arrow from wanting every possible _detail_ from their lover~!

"Ah, but now that I think about it, I suppose I _am_ a very extreme case…" Grell trailed off, picking William's hair as his sight's focus.

William held back a chuckle at his choice of words while keeping his face neutral. _Yes, Grell, you're an extreme case in every sense._

"Now that I'm taking a good look at you," the redhead started again, "I remember you used to have a more natural haircut, but nowadays all you do is comb it down! I like it better all messy!" He huffed childishly, sitting straighter as he stuck out his lower lip.

William almost didn't frown, but after so many years doing exactly that, it just came naturally, "Grell, I can't go around with such a casual cut, it's unbecoming, and unprofessional."

"Ah! You said Grell again!" he cheered, a bit too loud for the taller man's tolerance. "You said it earlier in the office, Will~. I didn't say anything though, wouldn't have wanted to jolt you out of your 'sweet' state."

"Nonsense, you must have imagined it before."

He was lying, of course. He remembered saying it clearly after Grell had almost broken down to tears. But unlike Grell, he could lie to save his dignity.

It obviously didn't fool Grell.

"Whatever you say~."

It wasn't long after that when the waiter returned with their meals in hand. He first placed the bloody steak on the table, chips reddened beside it as if it had been a sauce. Grell's eyes had gleamed with a certain thrill-of-the-kill shine, waiting as the waiter then presented the fairly large salmon, lively pink in color, with an appetizing smell. The potato salad that accompanied the main course was arranged beautifully, if one were to admire the food.

The waiter then quickly but gently brought the champagne, cool to the touch, and presented it as customary, stating its vintage and name, variation and all. A nod of confirmation from Grell later and the young server pulled two champagne flutes*, –again, seemingly out from nothingness– before setting them down on the table and continuing to unscrew the cork and pour the liquor into the glasses in a careful angle to effectively preserve the bubbles. He excused himself once more, to leave the two reapers to their meal.

"If you require anything more, please feel free to call me," the brunette bowed shortly, a warm face toward his two guests.

"Thank you, that'll be all for now, Gabriel." The human youth bowed once again and left to his post to wait for any orders. "You know, Gabriel used to be a magician," the redhead directed at William. "He still uses a few tricks when serving. It grabs the customers' attention. A lot of customers like to ask for him."

William nodded in understanding. It explained his fluid movements and the odd illusion of magic. Looking down to the cooked meal, he took his time taking in the wonderful sight of the refined dish. It had been a while since he last ate in a first-class restaurant.

Lifting his head to observe his partner, he noticed Grell had not touched his steak yet, even though he had both fork and knife in hand.

"Is something wrong?" It was strange for him to not gobble up a fresh piece of meat when the opportunity came.

"No, nothing's wrong. I was just waiting for you to start," he spoke politely, in a higher-than-normal voice. "It's only proper etiquette to wait for one's host to eat first, before beginning your own meal. _You're_ treating _me_ to dinner, which makes you the host."

His eyebrows raised barely a centimeter. "Oh, I see."

William swiftly took the appropriate silverware and began cutting up a slice to taste. And upon his first bite, Grell started dividing his red meat in thin strips before dining in the still-bloody cut.

He never would have guessed that the other was knowledgeable in table manners. Then again, he never visualized the vixen to be the kind that eats savagely either.

Although the salmon was exquisite, William couldn't help a small feeling of disgust, seeing splotches of red seeping from a meat cut stabbed by a glistened fork, and so diverted his gaze down onto his own plate. Grell was in his own train of thought, delightedly chewing his seared steak as he viewed idly the other customers. Every time he came here, the people were different, but always similar. They were all well dressed and conversing happily with others. Some were quite stuck-up, others were charming, and mostly grown adults, never children. Still, they were all human, and they relished their company, chatting and laughing after a meal.

He wasn't able to do that after Madame Red's death.

Although he had hated taking up a human disguise around her, she was quite an amusing character. She was always such fun, and they had so many things in common. He still remembered the first time she took him here, and taught him how to eat properly. A part of him dearly missed her, and her frivolous attitude. Why did he kill her, he often asked himself when he felt this way. Alone, guilty…

_Because she was useless._

A crack of joints echoed in his ear as he whipped his head up too fast at the words.

"Did you say something Will?"

"Hmm?" he had been savoring the last piece of the smoked fish when Grell called out to him, swallowing to speak. "No, why?"

"Oh…I just though I heard someone, that's all…" the red reaper lowered his head, feeling it ache momentarily, and he saw there was still a strip of cut meat left before he finished. "I must have been daydreaming."

"You know, it feels like we're celebrating something." William took his half-drunk wineglass and swished its contents. "I suppose it _is_ something worth celebrating for you, this is the first time we've gone out together. For anything."

"Yea…that's right…" Grell whispered, clutching the back of his head. It hurt strangely too much for just having popped a few muscles. Oh well, it'll heal in a second or two.

He grabbed his cutlery once again to eat what was left of the steak. But once he pierced it with the fork's prongs, the aching spread.

"Grell?" The knife had fallen from his weak grip, clattering softly in the porcelain plate. Grell's eyes had squeezed shut, trying to channel away the throbbing in his temples. The pain still continued to spread evenly onto the sides of his cranium.

"Grell? Are you alright?" It did not ease any of the dull pulsing, though, but it stopped increasing in volume, staying in a constant, pulsating, electric-hot burning sensation. "Hey," he felt a hand grab onto his shoulders and shake him. "Answer."

"A-ah? Oh…it's not much…just a headache…I've been getting a lot of headaches lately…" _But none as _crabby_ as this__! _He almost hissed out. A particular spot in his left lobe was vexing his thoughts.

"It doesn't sound like nothing. You're clutching your head too hand, it could make it worse." Grell opened one eye, feeling the throbbing subside, if only for a second. _When did Will get next to me?_ Then the burning throb came back for vengeance. _Ugh_…

He barely registered being pulled up from his chair, but there was some lightheadedness in his step and a queasy feeling stopped him from moving. "Stop…sp-spinning…"

"Nothing's spinning," he heard Will say, a little sourly. It was the last words he would hear in hours.

Grell could hardly conjure up what happened after that, but he remembered a warm touch on his face and feet tossing in the air. Currently, the headache had passed with not a trace of it left, thankfully. His thin body was resting on something plush and soft, with another shroud of warmth over his torso. His head was also resting on a cushioned, comfy cloud, a bit higher than the rest of his body. That's strange, he didn't recall anything after the dinner. Smacking his lips with thirst, there was a tangy aftertaste of something awful, medicine perhaps.

With some scorn, Grell realized his eyelids were too heavy to open, but not in the familiar groggy feeling of tiredness, yet he could not will them to move for some reason, and so he had no way to explore his whereabouts. His right hand had been freed from the supple enclosure, though, and there was some strength left in him to bring it over himself, at least to know what it was that warmed his body so comfortably. Grateful to experience, the covering was cotton to his fingers, and, if he was correct, its thickness meant it was a bedcover.

Whether it was his sleepy state or scarce energy, the resting drowsy creature didn't feel alarmed at all about his ambiguous condition. Everything felt too invitingly pleasant and friendly.

"I see you're somewhat awake, at least," a dull voice spoke to his right. He felt his weight shift as another person besides himself laid on the bed's edge. He knew that voice.

"William? Where—"

"My place. I couldn't find your keys in your pockets so I just carried you here." He felt the weight leave the bed, and William's voice felt closer. "If you want, I could take you to your room. But if you still don't feel well, sleep."

For a moment, he had the urge to home, feeling tired, upset and ugly, possibly having his mascara fade or smear from the day. For a second moment, his body was screaming for him to stay, forget about his make-up and _sleep._

His body convinced him to stay.

"I like this bed," the redhead said as he stretched, the covers swallowing his body into the big bed, and that's when he realized he was down to his underwear. "W-w-wh…" his face had turned beet-red.

"Your work clothes would have gotten wrinkled, and I didn't have the heart to undress you completely…mostly because you would never let me live it down."

Oh, how he wished he could at least open his eyes to see William's face right then.

"Besides," he added, "if I'm right, the medicine I gave you should be working by now. Go ahead and sleep, I'll stay up a bit longer."

"O…Okay." He had to admit, he really _was_ feeling lethargic, and being in a soft, plush bed was only fueling his body to rest.

Hearing a door close, Grell was left alone in the room, which might be Will's room, since the dormitories were the same to all workers, and they only had one bed per reaper. That would make the bed he was laying in _William's_ bed, and suddenly, his mind started working.

_So this is where he sleeps everyday…_ he thought, taking a long whiff of the pillow. _It smells so clean…and fresh. I can't believe I'm about to sleep in Will's bed, and it's all thanks to a headache. I would have figured it to be a…different…experience._

_Ooh…! But I can't enjoy it, I feel horrible for doing this while I'm with Bassy… Dear me, I can't believe I'm together with _both_ Sebby and Will. This is either a dream-come-true…or my worst nightmare. What if they find out about this? They can't…they can't find out, I can't let that happen, at least not so soon. I know how possessive Bassy is…and now I know Will's the jealous type._

_They're both the jealous type._

_Bollocks. Curse my endless pursuit of love. Why now, of all times, do people decide to fall in love with me?!_

_But I can't hide it forever…maybe…I can convince them to change to polygamy… No, that'll never happen. Even _I _don't believe in polygamy._

_But…I love them so much…I don't want to let go of either of them…I _can't_ let go of them…_

_I hate this…_

* * *

><p>William had taken a stand when he saw Grell lose his grip on the knife and wince painfully, clutching his head. He had stood next to the shaking reaper, unknowing of what to do.<p>

"Grell?" he called out twice, but Grell didn't stir from his pain, "Are you alright?" He tried a different tactic then, jerking him softly by the shoulder. "Hey, answer."

Judging the tone in his own voice and hearing its harshness, William regretted turning back automatically to his usual demeanor. But seeing Grell react to it eased him a little. He heard the redhead mutter about it being 'just a headache'. Obviously it wasn't _just_ a normal headache.

"It doesn't _look_ like nothing," he watched, as the other's grip tightened around his left ear. "You're clutching your head too strongly, it could make it worse."

The only response he got was an eye looking at him, hazily. It didn't last long. The eye shut again, flinching at what seemed like sudden pain shooting up his skull.

That was it. He needed to get him home.

William called for the brunette called Gabriel and asked for the check to pay and leave, soon after pulling up Grell from his seat, perhaps a bit too fast, seeing him wobbling and heavy.

"Stop…sp-spinning…"

"Nothing's spinning." Again, he spoke too sharply.

Knowing that carrying him over his shoulder, or walking would be a bad idea on his pulsing head, he went with the next best suggestion: hoisting him up in his arms.

Excusing himself with some awkwardness and thanking the boy for his service, William gave him a nice tip and bid him good evening. He walked out the door hastily with a shivering Grell in his arms.

Outside, the wind had picked up, and the red coat had flapped in the cold air much like a raised flag. The journey would be easy, but going into an alley or somewhere where humans were scarce with this wind was, quite frankly, annoyingly irritating. He had to adjust Grell's position so his quivering face was pressed up against his chest, as his other arm holding the smaller man's legs pulled the lithe body around him so the coat blew _behind_ them and not _against_ them. Having Grell's head facing him also meant his long hair was kept down by the arm binding him in place by the shoulders.

Luckily, he didn't have to wander much. He found a quiet, near-empty street nearby where a broken down shop had been looted. And so he quickly ran in that direction, confirmed his initial thought of it being abandoned, and transported both of them to the Shinigami Realm as fast as he could manage.

Once through the portal, he checked on Grell. William saw the other had fallen asleep—or fainted—and held a painted look, eyebrows knitted together.

Within minutes William was in front of the door that led to Grell's humble abode, but searching said man's pockets, he found no key with which to open the lock. He couldn't—_wouldn't_ just leave him there, so he just lifted the red twig from the ground where he had put him to search for the keys.

His own home would have to do.

It wasn't a long walk either, being in the same floor, only ten doors down. Fishing for the keys in his own pockets, William pried the door open and closed it, or more specifically slammed it, with his foot a bit angrily.

He passed the small makeshift living room and headed into his bedroom, carefully laying the snoozing reaper into his bed.

Going back to fetch a special herbal tonic he recalled using when any particular migraine busted his skull, more or less often with them being understaffed, he realized Grell hated taking medicine.

Good thing he was unconscious.

"Where is it…?" He had torn apart what he had of a living room in an aggravated fit after hanging his suit and removing his waistcoat, and finally found the horrible-tasting liquid in a bottle buried in a pocket of one of his spare trousers.

He remembered when the nurse back at the infirmary had given it to him after a rather agonizing migraine, stress and work piling up. It had worked fairly well, and kept it on those occasions when the shortcoming of the few workers in his division made paperwork stack. It was sure to work on Grell's own headache.

He rushed back to the unconscious body, who had begun to shiver again, bringing with him the tonic and a clean spoon.

Pouring some of its contents onto the spoon, he fed it to Grell, hopeful it would ease some of his pain.

His attempt failed, unwillingly so. Grell grimaced and spat it out, even in his unconscious state. Pointed teeth shaped a scowl, the awful taste lingering on his tongue.

"Take it…" he hushed to him, insisting with a second dose, but Grell's mouth would not open. Will gave up on his efforts, trying to think of another, easier way.

What first came to mind wasn't his favored choice, and so thought up other suggestions. His second and third choice involved more injury than cure, so he ended up reconsidering his initial idea. It would work, definitely, he just wished there was another solution…

Again, he raised the spoon holding the liquid tonic, but instead of pressing it to Grell, took it himself. The unpleasant taste was ignored, having been accustomed to it weeks ago, and with a strong grip, lifted the worn reaper's head to pull him into a kiss.

He had remained stiffly in place, feeling the other soften slightly, before inclining his head to the side and nudging the other's mouth open with his lips, passing the medicine down to Grell. At first, there was some resistance. The sleeping redhead would turn his head, or would have, if William had not held it in place with his unshakable grip. But Grell was never one to give up easily, even asleep.

"Mmf!" He choked-gasped, feeling Grell trying to push the liquid back and out with his tongue, brushing against his own.

It seemed to have distracted Grell from the tonic though, having done so a second time with a more playful flick. William impulsively mimicked him, reason clouded as a shiver caressed his spine. The stimulating touch quickly heated his face in a blend of embarrassment and arousal. They continued, intoxicated with the deepened kiss, a spark of heat in every slick brush and sweep.

A bead of sweat traveled down to his angular jaw, teasing the skin. His chest constricted as his breathing grew faster and shaky. Eyebrows knitted together, frustrated, in lack of understanding. _S…so hot…_

He inched forward, leaning down on the sleeping figure, and felt the other's throat clench, swallowing in a gasp for cool air the forgotten tonic. In that trice, William had pulled back and turned away, unable to resist permitting the cold air through to his burning lungs.

A minute had come and gone as the vigilant reaper sat on the edge and breathed to soothe and dispel the heat. He dared not think too much. The accidental kiss still lingered in his head.

Feeling his composure returning, he turned back to Grell, who, he blankly noticed, had also relaxed and showed a much better complexion than before, no pain in his features whatsoever.

Taking a better look, he also noted he had begun to sweat with all the clothes Grell was wearing, and questioned himself whether to remove some, or all of it. His comforter was made to survive frigid winters, so it wouldn't help the redhead in anyway.

With some hesitation —_it was for Grell's sake, really, it wouldn't do to have him sweat bullets_, William thought for his own sake_—_he started with the glasses, then the red coat, then the gloves, ribbon tie and all later, and stopped, leaving him with his shirt and slacks.

But, he saw the white button shirt was beginning to dampen with perspiration. In the end, the only thing he couldn't remove was his underwear, which was very feminine, and very red. And so very embarrassing to look at, because it looked _nice._

Completely overlooking the fact that it was Grell lying almost naked in his bed, he wrapped him comfortably with the bedding, not just to make him cozy but to save what was left of his dignity. William watched over him as he relaxed into the sheets, and decided to take a seat on the chair he kept in the room near the bed, patiently waiting in case Grell awoke from his slumber.

Apparently, he didn't require much wait, for no more than five minutes passed before William saw the covers stir, a weak hand wiggling about.

"I see you're somewhat awake, at least," the vigilant reaper started, a thousand times thankful that Grell was too tired to pry open his eyes.

William was positive there had been a blush over his face for the past half-hour, for _obvious_ reasons.

"William? Where—"

"My place," he stiffly interrupted, standing from his chair and moving closer to ease the resting man, seating himself again near the edge. "I couldn't find your keys in your pockets so I just carried you here."

He watched as the redhead's closed eyes fluttered in useless attempt to open, and leaned closer again, like he had done before to give him the tonic. "If you want, I could take you to your room. But if you still don't feel well, sleep."

He may have said it only to be considerate of his situation, but nothing, not even an _ounce_ of his being wanted Grell to leave. He waited, with some aversion and hope, that Grell would decide to stay, if only a bit longer. _Why do I feel like this? Like I just can't let him go?_

It was a powerful longing, growing in his chest. Feeling as if it's the closest he's ever been to any living being, and never wanting to inch away.

It was hunger. Hunger for warmth, a touch, a look into his soul, mirrored in those now-closed pools of livid green. The only eyes that ever looked at him like an equal, not a boss, or a friend, but an _equal_, living being.

"I like this bed."

For only an instant, he thought about laughing at that, at Grell's 'innocent' way of saying _I want to stay_. But he reframed from it. Laughing was something he hasn't done in years, years that shaped him more and more into the lifeless reaper he is, or _was_, and this wasn't the perfect time to start again.

He'll take it one step at a time.

His thoughts were roughly interrupted by a series of stuttering sounds, and William realized that Grell felt exposed.

"Your work clothes would have gotten wrinkled, and I didn't have the heart to undress you completely…" more or less the truth, "mostly because you would never let me live it down."

A part of William reasoned to lie less often in the future, if he could worry less about the dignity he worked hard to keep and more about how Grell had felt.

"Besides," he added with a hesitant pause, "if I'm right, the medicine I gave you should be working by now. Go ahead and sleep, I'll stay up a bit longer."

And he was right, Grell was beginning to slow and pause, head leaning back into the pillow. No doubt sleep would catch up with the small redhead in a few short minutes.

"O…Okay."

William unwillingly stood back and left the redhead to his dreams. As he walked to the door of his room however, he glanced back at the lovely bundle of red sinking into the plushness. So wrapped up in his sheets he couldn't even be angry about it.

A small smile, one he hadn't felt naturally in so long, formed in his lips.

_He looks so cute…_

Excusing that thought from his head, William bristled, but didn't regret the sudden thought. It was the truth. Grell looked damned _cute_ all curled up into a ball, and there was no denying it!

_At least I didn't say it out loud,_ he grudgingly thanked his mouth for that much.

Outside, William stayed active for approximately half an hour, reading, before the sum of the day's work, and then some, weight on him. He was tired, and he couldn't wait much longer to close his eyes and catch blissful slumber.

William remembered doltishly that Grell lay sleeping in his bed.

Had the volume of his frustrated groan been any louder, he would have woken said person from the other room. Hesitantly, he reentered his own momentarily-invaded personal space, dressed in roomy nightclothes. The conscious man couldn't bring himself to sleep in the same bed, for idiosyncratic embarrassing reasons.

He has never shared a bed with anyone.

He usually took all the space available stretching out his limbs.

He wasn't prepared to stay asleep for hours until sunrise with Grell there sleeping with him.

_Grell_ was on his _bed_.

Even with all those little thoughts buzzing through his mind, William managed to get in the covers Grell was lavishing in without turning beet red.

_The only thing one must fear is fear itself_, rang in his mind like a mantra. _I'm glad to be this close to him, even if there's some panic in my mind._

Adding body heat into the bed equation, the red mess of limbs attached itself to his side like an octopus grappling its prey, startling the man in the process. Two arms hugged his chest with an iron grip, and William found himself, or should he say his nose, brushing against Grell's forehead.

The red tresses landed perfectly to accent a pale, smooth face, cascading over hunched shoulders, down further over a rounded chin. It was the most peaceful complexion he had ever seen from Grell, and like a sweet siren song, it lulled William to stare down at him with peculiar wonder.

Such beauty and soft silkiness of the skin, it reminded him of the moon, but he knew Grell could not be the moon.

If anything, he was the Sun, always shining down with grace and warmth on others, but hardly ever recognized. While at the same time merciful and powerful, it gives life to everything it lays its rays of light upon.

And the moon, frozen, alone and lifeless, gains a bit of meaning from its partner, the sun. The cold stone has life once again, beautiful only because of the sun's life, in the night. Waxing and waning to its demanding, raging wants, the moon sails through the night sky, bright and tender to its admirers. But only because of the sun, for which it is always thankful.

And this Moon is grateful for the Sun in his life.

* * *

><p>The telltale smell of old pages pervaded the room, strongly, ignored nonetheless. Sebastian closed the fourteenth book in his search for an answer, or a clue. So far, they all said mostly the same only in different words, and languages. Not even a glimpse at the answer that he was helplessly looking for.<p>

It was getting late, at least for his master to go to bed. There was no _late_ in a demon's vocabulary, only a _now_ and _soon_.

And soon he would find more knowledge on the 'fabled' creature humans call the Grim Reaper.

It had been nagging in his brain, what he saw a couple of days ago. It began with that red flash in the reaper's eye, a supposed nightmare Grell had the next day. He was most _absolutely_ positive that the two were related. Something he should never overlook. And he didn't.

It troubled him, but humans, being the poor innocent prey they were, knew close to nothing about a true Reaper, and so he could not find an answer with this method. But it wasn't in vain, for his second reason fueled him to continue searching: the doll. The doll itself wasn't important to look up, but the fact that it was connected to a memory of Grell's past was.

Due to a couple of old, relatively more-myth-than-reality books he had read, their belief in a chosen human at death to become a Bearer and Giver of the eternal sleep was fairly interesting. According to this culture, only some special humans were handpicked by the Death God to be molded into the next Death God, for they weren't immortal and needed one to inherit their will.

He hardly believed it to be true, but parts of it could be applicable to fit the holes in his puzzle. If one were to think of a human being reaped in death, and a different human being raised to be Death, then it made more sense. There were far too many reapers by his count to be born from mating. The fact that he had yet to see a female reaper himself was proof, though he knew there had to be some around, just not enough for them to think about reproducing with.

Thinking about that Mr. Spears, it seemed the only thing they did was work for eternity, which made it even _more_ unlikely they mated.

So his conclusion was that yes, shinigami must not be born but _made_. By what? Souls of mortal humans. Purified of their memories, he supposed, to be able to be brainwashed –he liked to say– into fitting denizens of death.

That much he was thankful for reading to figure out. He _is_ very good at guessing.

But then the hard question came. If they were 'rebooted' into becoming reapers, then why was Grell able to recall that moment about his earthen mother?

Not only that, but how did that odd man and his nightmare play a role?

"Sebastian," echoed in his head. His master was calling him, probably to be bathed and suited to sleep. The demon hurried in a flash to be next to his young human master, standing ready in the bathroom.

"Yes, my lord?"

"It's bath time." The boy looked, serious as always, straight into his butler's scarlet eyes.

"Of course." Sebastian bowed, undressing Ciel as he always did, and checked the prepared bathwater's temperature. Seeing it fit for a human, he led the young master into the water and grabbed a sponge to begin cleansing his body.

It was an automatic action. His mind was in another place, recounting the things that remained to be done.

_Yes, there is much to do, little time to waste._

* * *

><p>(*1) I'm sure most of you are familiar with French fries being referred as chips in the United Kingdom; on a second note, in Britain they were first sold in 1860 and they were quite the thick cuts.<p>

(*2) Laurent-Perrier is an actual champagne brand founded in 1812 that became popular by the end of the 1890's for its advertisements, boasting that their champagne was preferred by notable kings and nobles.

(*3) Just in case you didn't know, homing pigeons are a special breed of pigeons commonly referred to as carrier pigeons, but using "homing" sounds more…era-wise.

(*4) I'm not sure if any of you have ever drunk from a Champagne flute but it's basically a wineglass, only having a tall and narrow bowl. It has a longer stem to keep the cold temperature, since champagne is meant to be served chilled.

_I feel like I just taught my readers a lesson in history…and fine dining._

* * *

><p><em>AN: I hope this boggles your minds and makes you wonder._


	7. Resurface

A bed. Essential for sleep. A haven to the restless.

The place to indulge in both sweet dreams and luscious fantasies. And as with every being that takes refuge in one during the night, at the first sign of sunlight, it was time to reluctantly begin the day, time to leave its safe confines and go about in mundane tasks.

But for the first time in…for the first time _ever_, the idea of staying in bed, ignoring the guilty bliss of not working, and enjoying the sweet comfort of a warm blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon actually sounded persuasively enchanting, like a siren song dangerously alluring it's victims, too tired to listen to common sense.

That was how William felt this morning.

It didn't help that Grell was still freely snoozing softly latched on his side, a dab of drool escaping his mouth. Despite it all, it was _still_ such an adorable sight. _Of course_ his resting companion had yet to awake, yet to realize where he was, and _who_ he was with.

Although waking up next to the impulsive redhead wasn't as odd and disturbing as he thought it would have been. It had been strangely…nice, enjoyable even. It was as if a small window into Grell's world had opened, the little world that happened to be Grell's mornings.

One of the small privileges, he supposed.

Awaking from his momentary daze, William sighed, remembering that there was work to be done in the day, but his body would not push itself away from the sleeping enchantress. Upon closer inspection of said feminine person, William realized his own glasses were missing, and upon searching for them in the nightstand, he realized with some grief that he had, in fact, _slept_ with his glasses on, and now they were lost somewhere, possibly scattered inside the tangled sheets.

He carefully shifted himself to sit up, only to find himself unable to, what with Grell hooked to his side like a bass caught in a fisherman's line, and after five long minutes of wiggling his partner off, unable to, William gave up on his attempt.

He sighed once more, frustrated with everything, and so dropped down into the soft pillows with a loud _thump_. It did nothing to stir the sleeping figure clinging to him though. On the contrary, Grell seemed to have let out a content sigh, unconsciously knowing his source of warmth would stay, and smiling as Will relaxed against his frame.

_Fine_, he thought, _I'll wait. The sun is barely rising, and it's still early…I have time…I can afford to be patient._

He glanced down, squinting to see better at the blurry red in front of him.

_It's not like I have a choice. You're not relenting at_ all.

* * *

><p>Light had begun to creep toward his eyes at the first couple of blinks, and focusing back to falling asleep was not working. Grell shakily returned to waking, groaning at the day's start without his consent. Why couldn't the sunrise wait until he <em>felt<em> like tumbling up and out of bed? Why couldn't time just _stop _for once?

Rousing from his unkempt state, the loss of heat made him shudder involuntarily, feeling a heavy clump slip down his shoulder.

"What's this…?" he said aloud, groggily, turning to see a pair of glasses, rectangular, he could tell through somewhat blurry vision.

Despite being a shinigami who needed glasses to see, like all the others, his vision wasn't as bad. Grell could tell by the shape of the specs that they were William's. _But wait, why would William's glasses be on my bed? _Grell conjured in confusion.

…_Unless…_

Suddenly he remembered the past night's escapade into William's humble abode. The dinner, the chatting, the horrible headache, and resting in the plushiest bed, _Will's_ bed. Although there was a blank moment in his memory somewhere in between, he couldn't recall much of what happened after the headache, it seemed like a faraway dream now. As if it was a made-up story.

But if that was all correct, the warm body lying next to him had to be William's…

Grell blushed madly red.

To be in the same space as William was normal —he pushed the 'personal space' boundary _much_ too often—, but to be in the same bed was an _entirely_ different type of space he was invading.

Grabbing for the framed glasses, Grell took notice of the absence of clothing on his part with his arm bare, and his eyes grew wide like saucers as his face heated further in embarrassment.

_Why am I naked in the first place? Oh, that right! I was naked yesterday too… Did…did Will try something?_

Not like he would have ever minded, but really, he should have at least done so while he was awake. _What's the point if I can't remember?_

Putting on his best morning face, he turned brightly and spoke. "Will, I got your—"

He failed to finish his sentence at what greeted him.

Grell saw, blinked, just in case his eyes had fooled him, then gaped and stared, frozen as he took in the sight of his new partner sleeping, hair tousled and messy. _Oh, that's just unfair… He's seducing me in his sleep!_

And he continued to stare, absorbing with his eyes the sight of a man flat on his back, legs promptly covered by the thick wool almost perfectly, he noticed. Present to the world, William's buttoned shirt was wrinkled, perhaps with Grell's own habit of fetching body heat.

He was conscious of the fact that he slept clinging to things that heated him up: pillows, stuffed toys, he even once woke up wedged inside his coat closet, several of which had been draped over him. Except that this time, it was a person, a person named William, who might have complained over the two buttons his shirt now didn't have.

It was thanks to those two long-gone buttons that he could happily glimpse at a well-sculptured collarbone hidden underneath. It was, truthfully, the most skin he'd seen from the stoic man, and he possibly was the only one that ever _has_. Grell wondered how the rest of his body might look, with noticeable red cheeks, but halted after landing his glass-green eyes on his resting colleague's face.

Only two times in his long life had Grell ever seen William asleep. Once, soon after graduating and becoming full-fledged reapers, they were sent together on a rather difficult mission, and he was knocked-out by a spying demon who wanted in on the souls they were collecting.

And second, now in this room, where he was comfortably resting. His clothed ribcage bobbed slowly at every intake of air. He had forgotten how William man looked, so relaxed in this state, it made one question if it was the same man.

It was the eyes, he supposes, that made it so different. His eyes always portrayed everything, his entire persona, made to become the perfect example of the ideal shinigami: cold and collected. And now that they were closed, all that was left was the true Will, one that could show emotions and feel desires. Or at least, that's what Grell hoped was true.

He was almost one hundred percent sure that the usual William wasn't _really_ William.

And it was just such a nice moment, Grell didn't wish to ruin it. He instead pushed himself to lie on his belly, put on William's specs to see better and propped his head on his palms, elbows fixed on the covers. He gave a small toothed smile as he continued to stare at the settled man, pink cheeks and all. The redhead couldn't understand it well, but his heart warmed seeing him, so eased. In return, he felt eased himself.

Love was such a funny thing.

Will appeared to have shifted slightly, distracting Grell from his thoughts. He seemed to have woken up a bit. Pondering a little, an idea came to Grell.

…_Ah…really, I fell asleep waiting. _William moved his head to the side, still drowsy. _How embarrassing._

He felt a strange pressure over him, faintly supple. It was enough to rouse him from his hazy state and, stirring near the obtrusive weight, found himself leaning toward it. Opening his eyes to enlighten him, William found himself with Grell merrily on top of him, giving him a very demanding kiss.

His first reaction was to push Grell off, face flush with color, and inch away from contact. After that though, he regretted the action. There was really no reason for him to shove him away.

"I-I apologize…you startled me," he tried to say, but Grell, in the meantime, had busied himself by covering what he could after being tossed aside.

He may have been in his underwear, but a lady has to keep her grace.

"Well, apology accepted. I _do_ scare a lot of people," Grell pouted with downcast eyes. "But, really Will, there's no need to push someone for being affectionate!"

William straightened his back and swung his legs off the edge of the bed. "Your definition of affectionate is the same as molesting, pardon."

An audible gasp escaped Grell at the words. "Oh _really,_ well how do I know you didn't try anything while I was asleep, Mr. Spears?"

His answer was a sputtering one.

"Th-t-that—what do you mean by that?" He jumped, although the correct description would be _jerked_— possibly even _spasm_— recognizing his glasses on Grell's face and dove for them. "And these are mine!"

Grell smirked at such an unrefined reaction, laughing as the glasses were stripped from his nose. Perhaps Will wasn't quite 'Will' until he had his morning coffee. He was much more fun.

Not five seconds from his little laughing fit did his flustered associate stand up and head for the door, closing it quite sharply.

"Oh, is he mad now?" The redhead also stood from the bed, sheets all tangled and tossed about, and followed after William. He abruptly halted, looking over an old chair that conveniently had a white shirt hanging on one of its arms. He innocently tiptoed to it, grabbing it by the sleeves.

After putting it on —he _had_ been so horribly underdressed to go walking about—, Grell assumed it belonged to William, since its ends reached past his hips, and his own shirts were fairly tight and never so slack. Reaching the door, he finally glanced around the room and saw just how tidy it all was, well except for the bed, but that was mostly his fault. He showed his way out through the narrow hallway to the small kitchen/living room (_really now, why must our living quarters be seldom spacious?_), but didn't find him around.

Grell guessed that William must have headed into the bathroom, and so he skipped his way back into the hallway, loving the feel of his bare toes on the carpeted flooring. He stopped midway at the door he ignored before. "Will~, are you in there?" he called, but didn't receive an answer. "Come now, don't be angry, I was just _kidding_ before," he knocked this time, three times before checking the doorknob.

Effectively, it was locked.

"Come on, Will! _I'm_ supposed to be the childish one!" For unneeded emphasis, he began to bang on the door, loudly. On the fourth strike though, William opened the door, making Grell lose his balance and land face first on the taller man's chest.

"Don't do that." He couldn't see his face, being pressed onto a clothed chest and all, but he could _hear_ his scowl through gritted teeth.

Grell slowly pushed himself back, keeping his gaze down to the floor, speaking with a low voice. He suddenly didn't feel so giddy. "I'm sorry, I wasn't serious before…about Will doing things while I slept."

"I know," William answered, his voice the usual stern tone, backing up one step. "You should know that I would never do that."

Grell felt a pinch in his chest as his eyebrows were forced together, hearing that. _Does he mean that he wouldn't think about doing those things with me?_ William, on the other hand, noticed Grell's depressive mood. William fixed his glasses, out of habit, and he sighed for the third time this morning.

"You should know," there was a hand on his lithe shoulder, "that I would never do anything to you without your consent, Grell."

The smaller reaper shot his head up with some glimmer in his eyes.

"Really? Do you really mean it?"

"Of course." William breathed softly, rubbing his thumb over ticklish nerves near Grell's neck. "You looked sweaty, and I didn't wish for you to feel uncomfortable, that's why you're down to your underwear. And I should apologize, the medicine that I had given you…well…it wasn't very tasty, and you thrashed about it… I had to pass it orally to you, so you wouldn't fight."

Between remaining still long enough and feeling a tickle reach up his neck, Grell's face had a small resemblance to being surprised about a joke. He had to pull his hand over Will's to keep his habit of moving his fingers around when he felt nervous. The nape of his neck was fairly sensitive, and William's constant fidgeting didn't help suppress a few coughed giggles.

Grell did feel, though, that his superior's fingers had twitched at the touch of his own, almost shakily.

"Again, I apologize," he finished, deciding to instead grip gradually at the silken shoulder, exposed only because Grell didn't button the first two buttons.

Grell felt a warm feeling spread in his stomach, "You don't need to apologize. Anything that Will could do is fine for me, you have my unconditional permission, okay?" He tilted his head to the two hands, resting his cheek against them, tenderly. Grell fluttered his eyes closed for a second, breathing in the clean sent the toiletries gave.

"Don't be afraid to be affectionate, Will."

Not one second after speaking his mind was he shoved back and out of the personal bathroom, uncouthly.

"H-hey, that was uncalled for!" Grell managed to yell back at the door that was thoroughly closed as he stumbled back.

"Sorry, but please wait there!"

The redhead huffed, not exactly surprised by the action, and not completely convinced to wait either. William had either pushed him out of his personal zone, reminded that Grell was too close for comfort, or he was actually planning on something too big and with earnest, for he forgot his manners.

A pout began to form on his lips. He was a little disappointed, being left outside.

"…Okay," he heard, muffled by the door in between, "you can enter."

_Really, why did you have to push me out if I was going to be let in anyway?_ Grell thought, a little angry. The door was opened, he came inside, and with some hesitation, closed the door behind him. _Just in case._

Although after turning around he wished he had prepared himself, for William stood in the middle of the cramped space, which was about two feet apart from Grell's position, sans clothes. _All_ clothes.

"W-Will!" he had turned his head to the side to avoid his stark-naked boss. "Have some _decency!_ Why, in heaven's name, are you nude?"

He was met with a stagnant silence, only interrupted by the sound of the soles of feet patting the tiles, approaching him. Grell still glanced over his shoulder, avoiding contact, face flush a deep color, until two arms pulled him forward, onto a bare chest. He was startled, so his hand had reached up to Will's shoulders to keep them in sight.

It was…warm…and it felt…inept, awkward. Sure, Grell had hugged William plenty of times, and very _very _rarely did William hug _him,_ but never like _this_. It was much more intimate, to say the least.

He could smell a bit of honey, although he wasn't sure why.

"Grell, please look up," he ordered, lacking his usual demeanor. And he did as was told, a little afraid of the unexpected.

"I chose to be nude…as you put it…so you will look at me."

At this, Grell rose one fine brow "But…I always look at you," Grell trustingly pondered out loud. His mind was fuzzy and clouded, yet William's arms held him securely in place, protectively.

William shook his head. "I meant…without any of my…'walls', shall we say," he corrected, letting out a breath in a sigh. "…You realize…I'm not very good with words, and emotions. They're useless, unnecessary, frivolous. I'm practical…stern and stiff, to an extent. I'm remarkably strict, detached, there's not one funny bone in my body, I'm sure. That's why when you're around, I don't know what to do." Grell was about to ask what he implied, pure curiosity, really, but the answer came before he even opened his mouth.

"You ignore my cold façade, the push and shoves, even when I said there could never be anything between us, many times. You ignore everything and looked at me with love, for the longest time. I'm not sure whether it's that pride of yours. You're so stubborn when you want something, honestly. Sometimes, I wondered if it's all a game to you, but…you're not the type to fool around with feelings, I know. You're just…wholeheartedly, stupidly _blunt_ with love, as if nothing else mattered, and as if the _universe_ was all ears…and I am, now. I'll listen to you, everything you'll say.

"So I will also try, I'll try to shed my skin, but only for you, because then you'll see that my feelings aren't superficial, even though I won't wish for anyone else to know. I want you to see that for once, I think emotions aren't useless. That I want to be human for you."

Red hair was combed with long fingers, in a soothing gesture Grell thought, after noticing his own vision blur slightly, he felt his arms shaking against the warmth of touched skin. Tears, he assumed, had adorned his features, and William was comforting him.

"And don't say 'what was that' because I'm not repeating myself," Will lightheartedly added, nuzzling into the red tresses.

Grell's breath stifled, chuckling. There was no true cheerfulness, only reminiscing, recalling all those times when William didn't look, when he dismissed him as a bother, a pain, a _leech_. He never showed it on the outside, but every time such an insult would resurface, it ached, painfully in his heart, cracking, and he smiled brighter, not wanting to think about what he heard, because he only wanted someone to care for him.

It made him cry, thinking that he would never have to suffer through such words again.

It made his chest ache with torment, knowing that he had _two_ people that loved him. That one of them could disappear from his world without a second thought.

Because they felt deceived.

"Please bear with me, while I learn to be human again…" His soft-spoken voice resonated inside his head, spiraling, bringing him into reality once again. Grell clasped the bare neck before him, weeping quietly into his first love's embrace.

"Okay…" Grell chocked, enveloping himself in the open arms with kindness and love, wallowing in his awareness and despair for what the future could hold.

_I just hope that you can bear with _me.

* * *

><p>A week has come and gone after that morning. Not much had changed in the work hours, Grell supposes, besides the occasional happy mood. Truth be told, there are times when his mind wandered dangerously close to the gloom of the 'what ifs'. It was always these 'what ifs' that tortured his mind.<p>

But once those thoughts begin, immediate actions must be taken. So he walked a little around the office, he went to find Ronald, if he's doing paperwork, to chat, to distract himself from the fear, until he forgets what he was worrying about. If Ronald isn't around, then he goes for a cup of coffee with milk, our maybe he should say cup of milk with coffee, to ease the day's weight.

An idle mind is the devil's playground, one would say.

Bu he is especially happy once a day, when he periodically visits Will, normally the others would say.

His heart melts when that particular mask sheds just for him, and he can sit where he wants, as long as it's not on the desk, and he can touch where he pleases, so long as the clothes aren't messed up.

Although, so far, all Grell ever asked for was to sit on William's lap and rest against his frame, comforting, breathing in his scent. And all the senior could do was gently brush his head with gloved fingers, or offer a small kiss on his temples before standing up to continue working. William recognized when Grell wanted comforting.

Gradually, things were changing. He felt much better today.

And today Grell was particularly annoyed, having to 'babysit' one of the newbies, a little revenge from the Higher ups for his mischievous antics, if not just some people skill training for Grell.

Grell wasn't the friendliest sort when it came to newbies.

The freshman in question was three months fresh out of the academy, and his cockiness was as large as a whale. Grell didn't bother remembering his name. He was unattractive, rather bulky, and the plain dark brown hair was messy, too messy for his likings. Of course, even newbies knew of Grell Sutcliff, the redheaded, hot-blooded shinigami who was as gender-confused as he loved red, truer than the blue sky which was ugly to him, so there was some unsure distance present between them.

_The boy probably thinks I'm going to eat him or something,_ Grell would think _almost_ aloud, if not for keeping his mouth at bay. Showing his teeth around also served as a lesson to fresh workers.

Make Grell mad, and he bites.

"Okay, so you just have to write a report after every reaping, got it?" he chided, already tired of the young'un. He was nothing like Ronald when he was new. Ronnie was _much_ more fun…and agreeable. This one didn't really care much about the writing, only the soul collection.

"Yea, yea, got it. Can I go now?" the freshman asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice. Shoes tapped the floor in repetitive motion, showing his boredom.

_Oh yes, you can go now, straight down a cliff if you want._ "After you do your report, yes." _Brat._

A long, frustrated sigh escaped the youth, and oddly then did he remember the kid's name was Adrian. _Hmph, not such a nice name…not like Will's or Sebby's…_

And to top it all off, the little _bastard_ took two hours writing his report. His grades were right, paperwork was not his forte. Well, not like it wasn't Grell's either but really, _two hours_ for a single soul? William would be abashed at that, about to suggest his face to 'acquaint' himself with the nearest wall. And he meant that William, not the boy, who would go and bash his own head in a greeting gesture to the white, constructed boundary. Good thing we was another division's problem.

During that time, Grell was busy filling his nails, glancing at the youngster every few minutes just to verify that he was doing his work. A couple of times, he caught the boy glancing back, strangely, before jetting his eyes back down on making his report. It made him uncomfortable, really.

The elder reaper cleaned his precious glasses with the red coat's sleeve, noting that they had fogged, and afterwards brought a pocket watch from his trousers.

It was almost two, everyone must be either eating lunch or out on a reaping job. Well, except for William. He only got a cup of coffee and returned to his workplace. Such a busy body. _Guess I better check on the kid,_ he absently thought, looking over the boy from the corner of his eye.

And there it was again, that odd look.

Grell found _himself_ looking away from those eyes. It was…familiar in an unsettling way. He remembered that kind of stare, but his memory faded him on when and who had plagued him.

"So…kid, you done writing? It's been a long while now, finish already, I got things to do." He dared to peek through his red bags towards Adrian, who thankfully was looking at his papers. He may have finished, since the newcomer lowered his quill onto the desk he was occupying.

"I suppose…" he answered unsurely. Grell felt a bit of pity for him then.

He remembered the torturous times when he had to redo a report because it wasn't acceptable. Of course the only rules to it are the basic information: name, mother, birthdate and deathdate, cause of death, some recap of the human's life, a little explanation as to why the human couldn't be saved, important achievements in life, behavior of the cinematic record…well…maybe it wasn't all that basic and easy.

"Is this all, sir?" the brunette asked, rather respectful.

He acted much more docile now. That rung some alarms.

"Yes, you are dispatched now. Just be sure not to cause any trouble for your superiors, got it? That's my job around here," Grell half-joked, half-stressed, beginning his stride away from the workspace cubicles to the lunchroom only a hallway apart. Right now, the current-senior reaper wanted nothing more than to part ways and leave.

Unfortunately, his arm was grabbed before he reached the turn halfway to his goal.

"A-um, please wait, sempai." _Ugh, don't call me that_. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

_Because you're creeping me out,_ Grell wanted to scream at him, but held it back. "I'm parched, if you will. Good day now," he mumbled quickly, yanking out of the hold, only to be snatched again, perhaps a bit too strongly for his liking.

A low chuckle broke out from the junior, surfacing some distress in Grell's features. "Aha, well, it's only that…I'm sorry, couldn't help but notice, you have a wonderful ass."

He didn't know whether to slap the boy or humor him.

He decided to be indifferent.

"I'm sorry if you confused me for an 'easy lay', now if you'll excuse me," he forcibly pulled his arm back from his captor, "_I have things to do._"

A hand slammed onto the walk, pinning Grell in place. The action startled him, threatening him to stay down.

"Just where do you think you're going?"

His mind went blank for an instant.

"Wh…what did you say?" His voice quivered uncontrollably, hushed with fear, but not fear for the man before him, fear of a shadow in his life that haunted him, one he could never get rid of. For just one second, he heard a ghost of a voice whispering.

_Just where do you think you're going?_

Adrian had noticed the immediate change in the previously-adamant man. He took it as an advantage, and delved onward.

"You know, there's quite a few rumors about you, just thought I would check if they're true…but you don't seem to be putting up much of a front."

The taller figure brought his free hand and lifted the redhead's chin, losing his chance with the scared reaper pulling away with a soft whimper caught in his throat, shadowing his eyes with his red hair.

He remembered more, unpleasant words running in his head.

_I don't want you to leave just yet, doll._

This was curious. He had heard about Grell Sutcliff being a hotheaded, temperamental and uncivil man-proclaimed-woman, slutty as can be, _scary_ to say the least, capable of biting off a finger if someone started with the wrong foot. He had heard many different stories, some involving demons and some involving major breaching of rules. An untamable beast of sorts.

But he _never_ heard anything about showing fear or cowardice. If anything, he expected this to be a much more violent discussion, or…a much more agreeable talk?

Adrian mentally wondered why his eyes were betrayed, seeing a slightly shaking figure, much shorter than him, in the verge of tears, he guessed since he was unable to see the hidden eyes, and not all that unattractive for him. His expectation was exaggerated it seemed, because right now, the redheaded transvestite was trying and failing to disappear into the wall. _I think I should stop_, he considers. It wasn't really in him either to push someone when they didn't want to be pushed.

To Grell, there is a hand coming closer, teasingly aiming for his hair.

_Come here…your hair's getting in the way…_

He hears the shorter male mutter something under his breath, and unconsciously he leaned in to listen, but caught a loud gasp at the proximity and two hands gained impulse to push him roughly back.

"No…s…stop…" Grell murmured, clutching his hands defensively, shaking like a leaf.

The junior felt amiss, not intending to frighten his superior. He took one step forward, wanting to apologize. "Uh…hey, look, I'm—"

He was interrupted by a set of shears and a rough tug.

"Mr. Morris, stop harassing my workers," William practically threw him aside, assuming a defensive stand with his scythe.

"I-I didn't mean it like it looks, Mr. Spe—"

"_**Leave**__._"

The thunder in his tone was ever-present.

"…O-of course, sir…" the youngster gave before turning on his heel and strutting out quickly.

Not one second after Morris had left his line of sight did he rush to Grell. The still-trembling reaper jerked back from the closeness, hitting his elbow against the wall and he wailed from the jab. William did his best coaxing him to let him near.

"Sutcliff…hey," he called out softly, putting his hands below Grell's sight so the man could see him approaching. "Look at me."

He gently, uncharacteristically, he might have chided, patted Grell's forearm, easing it down on his left elbow, the one he hit. A slight wince from him told it still hurt. Grell's body started to shake violently with his touch, so he brought his other hand up and slithered it to rub in soothing motions his back, slowly, as he hunched to catch Grell's attention. "Look at me, Grell."

He looked up his time, with watery eyes, tears not yet spilled, glossy green boring into him. "W-Will…?" Grell piped up, recognizing the taller figure.

A sigh of relief escaped his self-control. "Yes, it's me."

Without warning, Grell crashes his body against his Will, breaking into a choked sob, grasping the suit strongly with his hands, still trembling. William has to remind himself that it's alright to let him cry on him, even if his make-up would ruin the fabric, or for the unwanted possible interruption by a passing by coworker. There are more important things than his pride at the moment, he would risk his highly-regarded prestige.

He can feel Grell's body shivering with diminishing terror, slowly calming down, as he gasped between sobs. Both his hands held the crying heap now, and the other's body temperature increased. Out of the constant shudders, he could make out Grell chanting 'I'm sorry' over and over again.

"Shh…I'm right here, don't cry…" There was a pain, abnormally strong, shooting up and down his chest. Grell continued to tremble. "It's okay, stop thinking about it… It's okay…"

It pulsed, aching over his throat each time he spoke, hot and stinging, but he tried to continue to relieve him. It's just the cold air, William deluded himself into thinking, as a drop of hot moisture was felt running down his cheek, just like that day, when he found the shattered reaper struggling, lifeless and dirty. But most of all, _alone_.

William had to remain strong for Grell, he knew, even if he shared some of those anguished memories with him, because he was the only one that bothered to find him, the only one that began to worry about his absence, years ago on that date. He couldn't let the worry and guilt show, and so he quickly wiped his face with his sleeve.

Grell had lived through worse times, but those two weeks will never leave his mind and body, he's sure. Because of _him_, the evil bastard, Grell was forever broken. On the surface, he's patched up, but there are still some cracks that no one bothers to see.

"Will," Grell started, calming down from his shaking, "don't leave me…"

"I would never even fathom that," he answered, but realized Grell was only speaking to himself amidst his thoughts.

It's always like this when he remembered.

He began to pet Grell's head, much like one does to a puppy, hoping the action would wake him from this state. Grell responded very well to pet-like gestures in this mindset.

"Will…" Grell seemed to have calmed considerably, loosening his grip on the dampened cloth. "Do…do you think I'm pretty?" He whispered, his eyes reddened with his cries, black streaks over his cheeks from tears mixing with his mascara.

He hesitated, at first, to answer. It wasn't like William didn't have the words, he just wasn't very apt at expressing them.

He took a deep breath, bringing his hands to softly wipe away the dirty cheeks, staring at saddened, puffy eyes.

"Grell," he paused rubbing away the streaks, "You're beautiful, like a sculpture by Michelangelo. Don't do this to yourself."

"And…and my hair…isn't it too flashy…?" He shifted on his feet, looking everywhere except at William. "It's too bright…isn't it?"

"No, it's perfect…it reminds me of autumn." He saw Grell scrunch his nose.

"But I'm a winter!"

William couldn't help but flick his forehead, and Grell mewled loudly.

"Why'd you do that!" he yelled, rubbing the red spot that appeared on the center of his forehead.

He was back to being his old self. His good old, protesting self.

"Because you made me worry, you little dolt," William nagged, flicking his forehead again.

"Oww! Stop that!"

"Sempai? …Are you okay?" a peppy-turned-upset voice asked nearby. Ronald had made his appearance, a look of concern striking him.

Grell was about to reply, but William cut him off. "Knox, bring me some wet napkins. I'll be in my office with Sutcliff."

"Um…Okay, sir," the blond told, looking over to his friend. Grell looked alright, but his face looked like hell. He headed for the lunchroom, turning for a second to his two seniors starting off to William's office.

He was curious, and worried, because he spied on them after hearing the echo of William-sempai's voice and Mr. Morris leaving past him with a frown.

_Why was Grell-sempai crying?_

* * *

><p>"I hate this…I hate it, I hate it, <em>I hate it!<em>"

Grell threw the hand mirror to the floor with anger, relishing in the crack that he caused on the object. But it wasn't enough to just crack it. He paced to it and thoroughly stomped on it three times, particularly with his heel, for good measure. William massaged his temples, knowing full well that this was coming.

After the tears, there was always a tantrum.

Grell hated himself after he cried, thinking worse for showing such an _unsightly_ appearance, extra emphasis on 'unsightly'. It was a form of self-loathing, because he bothered to remember something that should long be buried.

For remembering Cassius.

"Sutcliff, stop breaking things! I understand why, but venting anger is _worse_ than keeping it bottled inside!" he argued, jerking him back and holding him in place. He continued his initial task, cleaning off the smudges. "It's not your fault, just sit down."

"Don't patronize me!" Grell shoved the napkin wiping the blurs away. "I don't wanna sit down, I don't wanna talk, I-I just wanna throw things and break stuff! Let me do that!" Grell circled 'round, looking for something small to break, but just turned to the wall and started to punch it.

"Stop that!"

"No!" Grell bashed the wall, loudly, forcibly, wanting nothing more than to see it crack.

"He fooled me," _bang_, "and _used_ me," _bang, _"and _left_ me there," _bang_, "like a rag doll, _like a rag doll_," _**bang**_, "_like a scrap of stupid, useless __**filth**__!_"

"Sutcliff!"

The wall gave a blaring _crunch,_ satisfying Grell's fury. He stopped then, supporting his arms with the cracked wall, hunching over to breathe.

He breathed in panting, fingers twitching in recognized pain. A dab of crimson could be seen staining the black gloves' knuckles. He wasn't angry anymore, just disgusted. He was naïve back then, it sickened him, to trust someone who said pretty words and did loving gestures.

He learned to love select characters, and not let others love him first. It was _his_ choice, no one else's. No one chained him down, no one had power over him.

Never again.

"…I'm sorry…Will…I only seem to show you things you wouldn't like to see." He lowered his spent hands, moving over to his partner. "I don't mean to be so unpleasant."

The last part came out more of a whisper, but it was loud in the deafening silence.

"Sutcliff…Grell," he corrected, "I don't blame you for being angry, I just don't want you to hurt yourself. Look," Will pointed at Grell's red knuckles, "You're bleeding."

"The blood helps." Grell planted his head on William's shoulder. "I stop thinking about it."

William put his heavy hand on top of Grell's head. "Well, it's unproductive," he chided, letting Grell lean on him.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, you sound like a guilty kid." William smoothed the redhead's strands. It wasn't his faculty, but he as slowly becoming less awkward with comforting him with physical gestures. He can finally give him a kiss –anywhere, but on the lips– without feeling coarse and odd.

"Will," he unconsciously leaned to the touch, "You're so sweet sometimes."

"I'm not sweet, I patronize you. You said so yourself."

Looking down, he saw Grell smile, a delight for his eyes. He hasn't admitted it yet, but he loved it when Grell smiled. It was…cheerful. Sunny, even.

"Same thing!" Grell laughed out, feeling this moment was the highlight of his day. "Oh…I love you."

"I know." _I love you too._

He wanted to say it aloud, but his mouth was never able to form the words. But someday, he thinks, he'll say it out loud and be happy about it. One day, he'll have the confidence.

Grell knows now that William loves him back, and he's content and happy about it, but admitting it without hesitation to a crowd would make him even happier.

William hoped he gained the courage soon.


	8. I Will Wear my Heart Upon my Sleeve

_N/A: Getting my wisdom teeth removed…good thing it doesn't affect my writing, but it'll still hurt. Besides my impending pain, here's the next chapter!_

**Warning**: Semi-strong descriptions of physical and sexual abuse (in other words, not for the squeamish); plus some male lovin' to make up for it.

* * *

><p>The following week was hectic, especially considering that Grell was a bit edgy with anyone that bothered him, edgy being synonymous with <em>crabby<em>. The only person that was welcomed and appreciated was Ronald, including William, obviously. The young blond helped calm both their nerves considerably.

William recalls that Grell doesn't react well with people after bad thoughts resurface. Well, he didn't take well to touching, specifically, while the memory was fresh in his thoughts. The high-strung feminine reaper would recoil whenever someone got too close. He frequently threw a tantrum too, later going depressed to Will, if Ronald wasn't around.

William knows it took Grell a long time to recover, to turn back into his usual self after the incident, and even so there was a part that never healed.

It was around fifty years after William and Grell graduated when they met him.

The redhead had openly confessed he loved William, much to his chagrin, just a month –actually twenty days– after they received their official personalized glasses. Afterwards, he gave him his daily flirt, until William was promoted for a higher position not too many years later. Grell stayed as an ordinary Dispatch Reaper, mostly because he knew any position higher was a lot of work. They saw each other less, mostly because William had become a Senior Dispatch Reaper and he now had twice as many reaping jobs than before. His former partner was sad without his crush, and William, at the moment considering Grell his best and only friend, was worried about him.

It was an understatement to say that William was antisocial.

When the dark-haired shinigami visited Grell after finishing early one day at lunch, he was surprised, and pleased, to see that he had made a friend to pass the time with. A nice young reaper, a couple of years their senior.

He was called Cassius Croens, a light brunette with a charming personality. Grell introduced him as Casey, given his new habit of shortening names, all the while clinging to his arms like a purse.

It seemed like Grell wouldn't have to be so lonesome with 'Casey' around. William had been worried about that.

As it would be, because the Red Reaper was so…_overwhelming_, for lack of a better word, he didn't fit well with the other shinigami coworkers. He was mostly avoided, the crowded lunchtime hallways opening up like the biblical Red Sea, making way for his skinny figure, lengthening red hair wiping as he grew it out. Grell was like a dangerous fire, beautiful to look at, yet hot and painful if you get too close.

Truthfully, he was more of a bumblebee: highly feared, but a true pussycat unless provoked.

Cassius didn't fear him like the rest; he was with the General Affairs department, the best and the youngest worker of his time, and so he specialized with socializing with other shinigami. A gift, the higher-ups assumed, from his previous human life, and so assigned accordingly in that department.

Grell thought he was very handsome, always playing with his shaggy hair. William had to apologize like a parent to him for Grell's unruly behavior various times, and it occurred that Cassius laughed it off as 'adorable'. He thought of Grell as an odd yet fun individual. Grell blushed at that.

And William left them to their moment, glad that he wouldn't have to be so concerned about his friend's wellbeing. Perhaps with this, Grell's crush on William would also fade, since he wouldn't ever like him back, at least not the same way Grell liked him.

Two months into their relationship, Grell would run around all of the building looking for Will when he was writing his reports, and just talk about how nice last night's date went. It was an earful, but Grell was happy, and it reassured William that he was fine and dandy.

That is, until one day he started acting strange.

At first, William thought it was just a bout of shyness from Grell's part. The redhead didn't speak so much with him, sometimes even going out of his way to avoid bumping into him. It got worse, he could tell, when he heard from the others more acquainted with Grell that they hardly ever saw him, at least not outside his cubicle.

He thought that they had broken up and Grell was gravely glum about it, but as it turns out, they still frequently saw each other. Once he went to ask Cassius, who he was now more familiarized with, if anything was wrong between them, since Grell had been so distant with everyone. The brunette brushed it off, saying that Grell wasn't in any way strange around him; in fact, Casey even asked if there was anything off about his partner. He looked genuinely concerned.

The next day, and the following two weeks, no one heard or saw a glimpse of Sutcliff.

Everyone went about with their tasks. The lavish reaper had the tendency to appear and disappear when he wanted to, one of the many traits that kept him in his low position, so no one minded his absence. Rather, it was refreshing now that workflow was as it should be.

William didn't think the same.

Yes, he was also used to the strolling antics, and the spontaneous personality, that overwhelming feeling of independence radiating from his former partner.

And that wasn't what he saw the past weeks. What he felt was quite the opposite.

Something was wrong, _clearly_ wrong.

When his absence exceeded a week, that hollow feeling in the pit of William's stomach got worse. He issued a plea from his superior, the supervisor at the time, to verify the dispatch reaper Grell Sutcliff's conditions as to why he had taken such an odd-timed leave, but it was ignored. With a troublesome worker like Grell, there was hardly any good word about him with _anyone_.

As the days passed, William grew more and more distraught. He just _knew_ there was something bad going on. And when the week was reaching its end, he acted out of sheer anxiety. At night, after all the regular reaping jobs were completed and some were out in night collections, William started his personal search.

Firstly, Grell's assigned room needed to be checked. He had been there himself during the whole week, in case Grell came back needing something, but it was a good place to start. Looking for any kind of note or sign that could give him a hint, he found it in a most obvious place: Grell's diary.

Well, journal, really.

William hesitated to open it; reading it would be a major violation of privacy, but if Grell was as expressive with his writing as he was with words, it would have every detail, right down to the sighs and second thoughts.

Going directly to the last page, to save himself from reading unnecessary, and possibly embarrassing, things from Grell's point of view, what he found was lacking in date and words. Hardly an entry.

But it was enough.

_I don't know what to do. I'm scared._

He flipped back, page after page, landing back to three weeks prior of Grell's disappearance. Before then, it was all such a long prose, pages filled with word after word; where he started to read, it was all the same: short passages, maybe even days skipped.

_I saw Will today. He looked kinda troubled, but I can't see him, Casey'll get mad._

_It happened again. He gets so mean when he's angry, but I don't want to make him angrier. He's really scary when he's angry…_

_I don't understand. What's his problem! I was just with some friends. Can't I talk to friends anymore?_

_I'm tired of him! He doesn't care anymore! I'm ending this before it gets worse!_

_I can't get up…my legs hurt. I couldn't even work today, these bruises haven't healed…_

_No one seems to notice…or maybe I should say no one cares to notice… I miss Will…_

William noticed with heartache that that last page had been stained with what looked like gray spots, dried and wrinkling the paper. He had been crying as he wrote that one sentence, with what might have ripped his heart out, having to think that. The next page was the last, and rereading it surged a ridge of anger.

That last word, scared. Grell had been _scared_ that he couldn't do anything, _Grell_ was scared…

Throwing caution to the wind, Will promptly dropped the book where he'd found it and ran out to the aforementioned reaper's quarters. Knowledgeable in the displacement, he headed to the left wing of the residential quarters; tagged doors were a great help.

It was near midnight when he knocked loudly on Cassius's door, pushing past him when he opened it with a couple of curses from the late hour. Demanding to know Grell's whereabouts, Cassius played innocent; there was nothing he could get out of him, and so followed that horrid gut feeling, leading him to the bedroom. That bad pulse at the pit of his stomach peeked, and slamming the door open he saw why. How he wished he wasn't right.

On the bed, he found Grell tied to each end, pulling his limbs away from himself, naked. It didn't end there, for when his eyes finally adjusted to the dark, William saw just how wrong this was.

His body was battered tones of purple and angry reds, not one inch of his skin left intact, broken skin and a rusty red crisscrossing his ribs; from the lack of what could be rest and nutrition, his body couldn't heal more than at a human's slow pace. It was slow, agonizing torture.

There was a trail of fresh blood running down his head, another at deep marks –_bite_ marks– scattered on his shoulders. His bonded wrists and ankles were in the worst shape, bleeding an almost black pool, clotting from time and matted with dried patches of blood. The rope itself looked near-black with crusted brown, coated with dry clots. There was even an inch of grayish white amidst the blood in his wrist, feasibly from digging down to the bone.

And the _smell_, there was no mistaking it, almost as if the blood itself had clogged his throat, a nauseating, _sickening_ sent of unfulfilled death.

His face wasn't even viewable with the tangled hair, messy and dirty with God-knows-what; William even saw that it had been cut, locks of red discarded onto the floor. The most grievous thing of all was that between all that hell, Grell was shaking. He was pulling at the binds, still trying to break free, to escape, despite his state.

William couldn't take it anymore.

He practically flew to the bed and cut the ropes with his deathscythe, thankful that he modified it to a more useful format, his present scythe. He quickly grabbed a bed sheet tossed on the floor to cover Grell, hearing a whimper of pain from the other, dry tears seeping through his reddened eyes. Casey had dared to go in there, and at the first glance of his entrance, he was caught and pinned to the wall by the extendable sheers, restrained by the neck. They were sharp enough to cut through the muscle tissue with ease, thick trails of blood starting to leak and stain both the scythe holding him and the shirt he wore.

For just an instant, William was tempted to crush that neck.

If it wasn't for the disturbed reapers that came in to see what all the commotion was about, he really might have.

The next few days were a blur to him. He faintly remembered Cassius Croens being sentenced to six months of supervised solitary confinement and daily appointments with the psychosis ward.

Whenever an episode like this happened, it related to the beginnings of a mental disorder, and it was usually right. After being diagnosed with a strong Narcissistic personality disorder, Casey was permanently sent to the psychosocial rehabilitation facility in England, far away enough for Grell to be at ease.

Some souls just weren't made for an eternal life, though this one relapsed at a very young age.

It took months before Grell even _began_ to speak again. After being cleaned and patched by the nurses in the infirmary, some of which couldn't handle the stench of blood, not only were there clear signs of brutal physical abuse, but even fading trails of semen over his torso, hips, thighs and even face. His wrist and ankles were bandaged carefully, soaked with medicine; the rest of his body was also medicated afterwards.

Throughout the two weeks he was in Cassius's hands, he had been tied to the bed and left there without even an ounce of water, played with and 'punished'. Where there wasn't a bruise or a cut, Grell's body was pale and bony, taking even a ghostly white hue.

The fastest way to heal would be to rest after eating, and his only painless solution, but Grell was reluctant to do so. He didn't take being surrounded well, and lashed out when a female nurse tried to feed him. He shivered violently, and didn't sleep a wink the first night.

The next day, when he was allowed to visit, William came in and Grell almost broke his wrist again, trying to jump out of the bed he was in, if it wasn't for the nurses holding him down. He was just so happy to see him again, the pain faded for a second, before coming back in throbbing waves.

If William wasn't there, he wouldn't eat. If William wasn't there, he wouldn't sleep.

It was a comfort, like keeping nightmares away, like nothing would hurt him if Will was there. Every day until his body recovered, William had to stay with him at night so he could sleep soundly, lest he wake from a nightmare without him. It was during this time that William thought about the situation.

How did it turn like this? How did it get so ugly? And why Grell? Why did it have to happen to him?

It was all unfair to him, for Grell to have to suffer that much. He hadn't done anything wrong.

He made a decision, looking down at his sleeping, still-pale companion, that he would never allow for this to happen again. He won't let anyone else hurt him, not while he was around.

Grell never told anyone what was said and done in his imprisonment.

No one ever mentioned that time, either. It wasn't just a taboo, it was one of the reasons shinigami interns were obliged to take tests before beginning their training.

* * *

><p>"<em>Why, hello there, my servicing knight~!" he heard from behind him. A sigh escaped his composure. Turning around was pointless, the man knew who was there.<em>

"_Yes…good evening, Mr. Sutcliff," Sebastian had welcomed remotely. It was already darkening and the young master was in his study writing a letter to the Queen about the previous job. In all honesty, the shinigami wasn't such a bad company, if he would stop flirting so much._

"_Ah, don't be so chilly, it sends shivers down my spine!" The demon dared to turn around to face the reaper. He was feeling considerably patient today, having a pleasant evening when none of the servants caused any major problems during the day. _

_Of course, after turning around, a friendly little furball distracted his initial remark. _

_There was a cute little kitten in Grell's arms. Midnight black fur and piercing blue eyes. _

_Oh how he wanted to take it._

"_And what, pray tell, is that wonderful kit doing with you?"_

_A little snicker sounded from the redhead before he spun and pressed the cat towards Sebastian. "It's a gift to you, my Romeo~." A skeptic frown etched itself on the butler's face. A gift? No one's ever given him a gift, not at least without wanting something in return. It was a common experience for a demon, to bribe and be bribed._

"_What is it that you want now, Reaper?" He questioned, crossing his arms. Grell actually looked puzzled at the question. _

"_What do you mean? I thought you liked cats." The kitten in question wiggled its tail, provoking a twitch from Sebastian. If it wasn't for his crossed hands, he would have grabbed it._

"_I do, now what do you want for it?"_

_Grell huffed a bit, clutching the black kitten to his chest. "Well…it's not bait to anything, if _that's_ what you're thinking," he murmured, petting the little kit. "I just thought that you might have liked one, since you don't get to have cats because of your little master."_

_Now it was Sebastian's turn to be confused. "Why would you give me something? It's not like I've ever been nice to you." _

"_Because I like you, duh!" He stated it as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. "And sure, you're not very nice, but I am a little…_forward_ sometimes." Grell shrugged, and the kitten meowed, as if agreeing._

"'_A little'?" Sebastian sneered, lifting his hand to the reaper. "I appreciate your thought," and Grell gave him the little kitten. He was used to having a couple –dozens– of cats lying around, one more would be no problem to hide. Plus, this one was exceptionally cute. _

_He decided to name it Abscond, because of the irony it would be to call it. When humans abscond, they usually flee from capture._

_And when the kitten sneezed, a plain blush reached Sebastian's cheeks._

"_How cute~!" Grell called out, referring to Sebastian. The demon, on the other hand, thought he meant the cat. "Ooh, I wish I could stay, but Will has a tight leash on me lately… I'll take my leave now, love!"_

_With that, the Red Reaper jumped down from the rooftop of the manor, which they were in the whole time, and waved goodbye. "Let us meet again!" he yelled before disappearing. _

_Sebastian continued to stare at Abscond, who wiggled and meowed tenderly at his given caresses. The butler instead wondered for a moment._

_It was the first time someone's given him a gift knowing his true nature._

"Sebastian," the young boy called out at his distracted butler. "I'm done."

Said butler snapped out of his trance and coolly apologized, taking the empty teacup the earl had finished and placing it on the wheeled tray. "Will there be anything else, my lord?"

His answer was a brief no. Sebastian then turned to take the teapot and the dishware to the kitchen, before being interrupted by Ciel, who called him again.

"Yes, my lord?" He paused by the door of the study, caught halfway with opening it. His master seated himself more appropriately and rested his head on his palm, as he usually did.

"You miss him don't you?"

The black-clad butler sighed, amused with the young boy's directness. Had he been that plain with his thoughts, or was the boy learning to read people? With a defeated smile, he gave his master a bow and started his leave.

"Yes, I do."

Closing the door behind him, the Phantomhive teen shook his head, leaning back on his chair, pensive. He gazed at the sky through his window, beginning to darken with the setting sun. An audible hum could have been heard from him, if there was anyone else in the confined space smelling of old wood and aged books.

_More than the usual, I see._

* * *

><p>The work was done, papers reviewed, signed and sent to the Main Branch of their division. Currently, William rested in his small-yet-comfy personal quarters enjoying some tea in comfortable clothes. That being said, his type of 'comfortable' was his work uniform excluding the jacket, tie discarded. Sitting next to him, but not quite <em>next<em> to him –Grell had taken the far right while William sat in the far left–, was Grell silently sipping his tea, savoring the warm taste. He too was in a more comfortable getup, his red coat hanging along with his waistcoat by a chair near the couch, and his gloves, heels and socks all removed. The striped bow though hung slightly looser, drooping down more than usual.

It was odd, the silence between them. For William, it was near-choking; for Grell, it was simply awkward. The host mentally slapped himself for inviting his coworker and dear friend without thinking ahead.

"So…how have you been lately?" William started, trying for small talk. He needed to get a conversation going.

"Hm? Oh, fine, fine. I heard another joke from Ronnie today. You know, Ronald makes the lewdest jokes." Grell continued to sip his tea, absentmindedly swishing its contents. "I'm starting to think those seniors from Management he talks to aren't the most refined in language." He chuckled at his own words. "Well, they _are_ pretty funny though. I don't think he'll even _fathom_ telling you one."

"They won't be wanted," he stated bluntly with his characteristic seriousness. William stood to take his empty teacup and Grell's finished one to the sink, his black socks brushing the carpeted floor.

"I know, I know~," Grell waved dismissively as his taller partner returned empty handed, taking his seat again on the couch.

They remained quiet while Grell fiddled with his hair. It took a second to register in his brain that William had scooted closer, wrapping an arm around him.

"You're being too quiet," he murmured, looking at Grell's light blush from his closeness. William's left hand toyed with the bouncing tresses of red hair, not really feeling them for he had his gloves still on.

"And you're being considerate, but I'm not complaining." The shorter reaper then lifted his feet to his chest like a child and leaned on his partner's frame, making a kissy face. "I'm thirsty again."

Between the air kisses, William's eyebrow twitched. "But you just drank tea," he pointed out, gruffly. The effeminate reaper made a hurt face and whimpered like a kicked puppy.

"Please~?" The pouting reaper was released as William stood again with a tired sigh and he turned to watch the man head into the small kitchen area behind the couch, which was really just a counter in between a wooden sink, two cabinets, an aged stove and oven, and some pots and pans that hung from a steel pot rack. It was the same as his own kitchen, and most likely everyone else's, and so he took his eyes off it, uninterested, and decided to take in what collection of books Will had on the bookshelf that rested on the wall opposite to his side, where William was initially.

It should be noted then that Grell sat nearest to the door, and only needed to take a couple of steps to leave if he so desired. He didn't intend to leave, of course.

Glancing at the titles he could understand, he made out Wuthering Heights, The Scarlet Letter, Twelfth Night, Othello and Hamlet; most of the others were either in too small of a letter to read or in another language. He thought for a second, before calling out to William who was bringing his fresh tea.

"Um…Will, what are all those books?" he asked, taking the teacup and tasting it. Said man raised a fine brow before understanding his guest's intention, looking at the selection he stared at.

"What, is it unexpected?" He saw Grell nod vigorously. "What is so unexpected about it?"

"Well," Grell began, taking another sample of the black tea, "For starters, they're all mostly romance, uh, except for Hamlet." He stared at him with a wicked grin. "I thought you were more of a mystery novel kind of guy~."

William couldn't hold back the loud, _frustrated_, sigh for the love of all that is good-natured and _red_. "Don't misunderstand, I'm not much of a book person myself. It's not like I have them because of their genre, they're all remarkable works of literature, and I have no preferences," the supervisor grumbled, pausing to take one from the shelf. "The only one I especially like is this one."

Grell took a gawking look at the big book in his hands, noticing the large writing on the front. It was old, big, and fat with pages, something Grell didn't quite like when reading books. Too many words bore him…

In afterthought, the surprised reaper finally realized what the aged book was.

"The Divine Comedy…?" Grell scratched his chin in wonder. _Isn't that Dante's book about Hell, Limbo and Heaven?_ he questioned himself, gathering with a small frown. _How appropriate…_

William only fixed the book back from where he took it, settling it with a nice _thump_. "I _do_ find it funny," was his only remark, shrugging.

A chuckle burst from the redhead, loud enough to distract William from the bookshelf. "Wh-what's f-funny, the damnation of the human s-souls?" Grell giggled as he spoke, clutching his side as the laughter died down.

The standing shinigami breathed out, sitting back down onto the leather settee with Grell. "No, I just find the interpretation amusing, is all," he asserted, leaning back. "Humans have such strange imaginations…"

"Well, _we_ were human once, you know." This time, Grell scooted closer to William, snuggling warmly into his shoulder. He earned a pat on the head, and put on his best catlike face.

For once, the silence wasn't so bad. Grell continued to nuzzle his head while his refreshed senior left his hand on top of his red scalp, smoothening some lose strands. Ah, Grell was enjoying his little moment of peace. Having the past few weeks filled with confusion, confessions, stray thoughts and bad memories, the tranquility felt somewhat alien.

His heart was beginning to race now that his awaited day off with Sebastian was just around the corner.

"You know, you're being awfully careless," he heard from above, a bit apathetically. Grell responded as he raised his head, making a confused face. William resisted the urge to facepalm. "Grell…You, me, in my place all alone. I would've thought that you'd take advantage of the situation."

The redheaded shinigami stuck his tongue out at him, startling the usually-composed man. "That's because you said you wouldn't do anything I didn't like, Will~," the reaper stated obviously. Reminded of his words, William sighed once again. He had been sighing too much lately.

"Besides," William caught, hearing Grell continue on, giving his fine superior a light kiss on his cheek, "I _like_ being alone with you. Now hurry up and do something, _if_ you don't mind. You're very transparent when you're docile like this."

A finger was wiggled to his face, almost as if Grell was lecturing him about the rules of love affairs.

"Alright, alright…" the dark-haired reaper gave, a light tint coloring his face as he removed his gloves. Placing them on the table, he shifted his body to crawl with his knees, towering a little over Grell.

Just for a second, Grell felt a shiver of alarm in him, but the way he was gazed at by William, such a strong, _blazing_ stare, as he got closer and closer…his mind emptied itself as all-too-familiar heat reached his cheeks. He could feel in that look all that want and care, and love and lust…

William snaked his gloveless hand to the back of the mesmerized reaper's head, relishing in the feel of the soft hair against his fingers. The sudden touch startled Grell, who stared up at William with a flushed face.

"If you don't mind…" he trailed off, replacing his words with Grell's mouth, kissing him softly. The shorter reaper pressed back into the kiss with fervor, closing his eyes with a hum in his throat, bringing his hands to rest on William's lean back. He shifted to the side, biting lightly with his sharp teeth the other's bottom lip, earning a short yelp.

"Just a fair warning, love~," he talked into the kiss with a smirk. It was candidly ignored, William pressing back into the kiss with more demand, gliding his body to hover on top of Grell's as they leaned back, into the couch. Grell groaned into the force, flicking his hot tongue over his exigent partner's lips, which parted with more of a gasp at the feel of the slick muscle, but parted nonetheless.

Grell began to kiss back, deepening with a low moan as he tasted William for the first time; little did he know that they had shared such a kiss before, when he had fainted. William on the other hand remembered all too well the wonderful feel of their clashing tongues, strange to his senses but incredibly _arousing_. He groaned deeply, muffled by their kiss, as he felt the sharp teeth brushing against his tongue, not strong enough to spill blood, but harsh enough to send his nerves on fire. Grell sensed this through clouded senses and smirked into their kiss, scrapping his teeth lightly again and again onto William's intruding damp tongue, earning little gasps and stifled moans, until they both pulled back for a cool whiff of air, panting from building heat and need.

"I…I wouldn't have thought…that you were the kind t-to like that, Will," Grell panted with a smile. Already a certain part of his anatomy was waking for action. "Another reason to be grateful for these pearly knives…"

William was too preoccupied regaining some oxygen to hear what the other said. "Wh…what was that you said?"

Grell couldn't help but notice that his hands had busied themselves with messing up William's hair without his attention, giving him an almost feral look. "I think we should take this to the bedroom…"

Seemingly the most composed one, Grell lug both of their bodies sluggishly toward the bedroom, dragging William by the cuff of his button shirt. Opening the door, he felt a little guilt, seeing that everything was so nice and tidy, especially the bed. There were no thoughts about being tidy in his mind.

Unceremoniously pushing William onto the bed, he crawled on top of his form, beginning to unbutton William's shirt as he pulled him for another heated kiss.

William, no doubt enjoying their touches, was starting to feel nervous as Grell moved to remove his shirt, not once stopping their kiss. "W-wait…" he barely breathed, his body feeling unbearably hot. Grell though heard his soft voice and pulled back from the kiss.

"What is it…Will?" He himself was feeling his temperature rising, a thin sheet of sweat forming underneath his clothes. He faintly heard this half-stripped partner mutter something under his breath, face turned away, reddened. "What was that?"

"I said…go a little slower…" he murmured again, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment.

Grell didn't quite understand at first, but the idea reached his head and he blushed along William. He realized with a mixture of disbelief and matureness that William was in fact…_inexperienced_. Given the fact that he'd never seen the man ever with other person, be it woman _or_ man, it was perfectly clear. But then in a bounce of joy, he felt veneration; after all, he would be then his dear Will's _first!_ _What an award~!_

Grell let a small smile creep up his face. "Okay, I'll make sure to guide you with utmost care," he whispered, rather breathlessly, and loomed closer, brushing his lips with William's left ear. He slipped his hand up and took of both their glasses, carelessly tossing them back on the bed, far away from their position.

"I promise you'll _enjoy_ it…" he breathed hotly, licking the shell of his ear. William seemed to tense up at the contact, unconsciously giving Grell more room to roam with his tongue. He left little butterfly kisses along his neck, stopping at the pale collarbone before giving it a sharp nip.

William tried to hold back a whimper at the little lovebite. Those goddamned _teeth_ were pricking all the right nerves in all the right places, his skin reacting to the touches with boiling heat. With more attention to detail, Grell shivered involuntarily as he gazed at the toned muscles on his lover's chest, not too present but noticeable. He reached toward the buried flustered reaper below him, leaning to his face. He began another feverish kiss, moaning into it as the heat began to be insufferable.

"Will…t-take off my shirt please…" he talked into their sweeping touches, sweat trickling down his forehead. William, between a held-back groan as Grell's teeth brushed his tongue again when he spoke, complied with the plea. With somewhat shaky hands from the heat that was beginning to sweep his control, he began with the bow, easily pulling it off and starting with the first row of buttons. Halfway, though, he paused at the strange ornament dangling around his neck. He hastily removed and tossed the sweaty shirt off before jiggling the necklace with one hand, pulling each other out of their kiss to speak.

"Grell…what's this?" he managed to say without stuttering. Grell looked down to see what he had pointed at and saw the ruby necklace hanging down with a sparkle. _Sebastian's_ gift.

_Damn it…!_ "Th-that's a necklace, isn't it o-obvious?" His worry was well-hidden by his flushed appearance.

Around his heavy breathing, William started again. "Where…did you get it?" He was getting an odd feeling from it, as if the three rubies poised onto the jewelry had some strange aura.

Grell managed a short laugh, gaining some control over his breathing. "I love rubies, Will, does it surprise you so?"

Beating around the bush was his better alternative. And William was too fazed to ask more. "Honestly, I would have figured you to be more of a garnet person…" Gaining some strength, he supported himself on his elbows on the silken bed. "But never mind, do you mind if I take it off?"

"No…go ahead," he answered shuffling his long hair to the side, to allow William to do so. He watched him carefully take it off and placing it delicately on the nightstand he had near the wide bed.

"I'm sure you wouldn't want this to be damaged, it looks expensive," he explained, returning with a crawl.

Grell chuckled lightly at his forethought. "Why, thank you," Grell gave, pulling Will by the shoulder, "Now where we're we…oh, that's right!" He began to undo his own trousers with one hand, the other coiling around William's own, kneading the prominent bulge there.

"Mn-_guh_, _Grell…!"_ William moaned at the light squeeze, his head flying back into the pillows, panting as he was continuously worked. Grell took the moment to remove his slacks and underwear, revealing his own evident arousal as he stood finally naked in the night, and his free hand swiftly discarded William's socks before giving all of his attention to his writhing lover. As he, very slowly, maneuvered his hands to knead and press the firm member, deft fingers inched the trousers, and garments, down until they were easily taken off by Grell's own feet, kicking it away. He couldn't help the low moan in his throat as he stroke William's naked flesh, seeing how the man twitched and jerked at his sweltering touches, trying and failing to catch his breath.

William's serious display of pleasure was turning him on more than he already was.

Not wasting another deep breath, Grell took one hand and pushed three fingers into his own mouth, preparing the digits as much as he could. William, through a fazed vision, didn't comprehend the odd gesture Grell was doing, but not like he was going to question it, he was far too gone to even _think_ straight.

Deeming the fingers ready, Grell pulled them out quickly and placed them at his own entrance, inserting one in as his other hand continued with the ministrations. A look of surprise met the disheveled reaper as he stared at Grell's face contort from pain to pleasure with his rough shoving, inserting another digit and releasing a groan.

"G-Grell?" he asked, the foreign sound of his hoarse voice startling himself. Grell only looked at him with half-lidded eyes, face flush as he finally pressed three fingers and fully stretched himself as much as he could. He stopped fondling William to level himself, and considering his entrance ready, he retrieved his hand and hovered just above the slick member below him.

"Now…William," he gulped, his long hair curtaining his back, "p-put your hands here," Grell grabbed one hand and pressed to his hips, "and you're going to steady me as we move, alright?" William nodded. "Alright…I'll set the rhythm…and push and pull as you like…"

"Alright," he concurred, gripping with his hands the signaled place. Grell placed his hands on William's torso and lowered himself slowly, prepared to relax and accommodate for the intruding organ. Burying himself in a steady pace, William took in a sharp breath as he felt the tight walls clamping over him, letting out a soft _long _moan as the erotic friction sent a hot sensation up and down his body, then finally completely taken. He hardly contained the shiver that ran up him in that instant.

Taking a moment to gather his strength, Grell began to move, pulling up enough before thrusting down with force.

William yelled, sounding more like a shriek at that first act, gripping strongly now at Grell's hips and jerking to the contact. Grell himself let out a vicious shout as the pressure of the hands bruised his skin, continuing to impale himself, more and more, the heat spreading to every inch of their bodies.

Grell tried to tease him about being sensitive, but found he couldn't, the only possible sound made being low groans at the delicious feeling of being joined together, in their most intimate moment. Speeding his thrusts, he found much to his delight that William had begun to meet him, flexing both his hands and his hips in time. _A fast learner, as always._

He supported himself on his hands, feeling his legs turn into jelly, and with quick thinking leaned down to crush his lips against his partners and flip them both, bringing down both of them back to their right minds.

"I c-can't keep going, y-you know what to do," he assured William before stealing his lips once more. He gripped the strong pearly back, sheen with sweat like himself, fastened his legs around and kissed as fiercely as he could, before William positioned himself once more, starting at their previous rhythm.

Their kiss could not be kept, neither unable to follow through, and they each instead breathed deeply as their lustful need molded and gathered, and it washed them in their carnal pleasure, turning into white nothingness before bursting colors. Thin red lines, courtesy of nails, scraped down with force at the milky white back as they released with a scream as their bodies were sated, arching a fine curve of the back, frozen in mid-second. Then, falling in exhaust back to the bed, a mess of limbs, tangled and not bothering to untangle, as they each tried to catch unnecessary but much needed air.

Grell was the first to wash down from his high, shifting ever so slightly to not disturb William, and he brought over them a thin sheet from underneath the pillows. He very gracefully undid it, flapping it into the air and covering their bodies. In his semi-composed state, he watched and waited as his dearest friend and lover breathed slowly, eyes closed, and bringing a hand to pull Grell into a weak embrace.

"Are you tired?" Grell asked, and received a short nod. "Then, you don't mind me staying over, right?"

"No…" William groaned, never opening his eyes. He rested his head on the large pillow, and so did Grell. "Now…let's sleep, there's work tomorrow…"

A weak chuckle broke through Grell, hugging back his compliant dear. "Oh, you and your work."

They each shifted for a moment, trying to find a better position to accommodate themselves for sleep, Grell only moving to remove as much space between William and himself. His body felt heavy and chilled, clutching the sheets and his human heat source. There was no escaping from Grell once he got his grip on something to warm him up during the night; William learned this in seconds as he attempted to turn and lay on his back, unable to thanks to the iron grip from the sluggish thin figure.

No matter, for there was a harmonious lightheadedness in him that made it impossible to feel irate or bitter. It was such a new feeling, as if his body was light in clouds yet heavy with fatigue.

It was…pleasant.

"Grell," he rose his company, still awake but already lolling his head as he tried to stay up to hear him. "I love you."

Grell had blinked slowly, a small, spent smile reaching him. "You love me for the sex, or do you really mean it?" He was teasing, looking at how William didn't react outwardly to his little charade.

"Of _course_ I mean it… Honestly, what's wrong with you?"

He only snuggled his head apologetically in William's neck, the short hairs of his bangs grazed his nape. "Just making sure~," he sing-sang with what energy he had left, feeling a soft pressure on his head. William had curled his hand onto the red mess of tresses, pulling him closer and placing a small kiss on Grell's forehead.

"Goodnight, Grell."

The wonderful sense of unconsciousness seeping into the motionless taller shinigami befell, undoing the invisible strings that pulled each muscle daily, slacking, suspending, resolving… There truly was no other like it, when you share that one dulcet moment of defeat to the senses with another, and he finally reunderstood why a human being always searched for that special companion. There really was no comparing it to anything else…

Grell took one long last look at William, smoothening his palm with the feel of his cheek, soft and warm. A sad smile overtook him, nuzzling into the warmth meant only just for him. "Goodnight, William."

He would never believe that all of this was fake, that he didn't love William, but it ached him to think that his feelings for Sebastian were so light. His feelings simply weren't light to neither of them; both Sebastian and William were his dearest loved ones. He really, truly loved each of them, heart to heart, pound for pound.

If only he could split his heart in two and give each a piece to them, to show them that it's real. Because it already feels like that when he thinks about how they would each look at him for what he's done. So he could only hope, hope that when the time comes, there wouldn't be resentment, doubt, but most of all, hate.

There was nothing he feared more than being left behind, alone.

Never again… This time, no one will be left behind. There _will_ be a happy ending for him, no matter what.


	9. Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

_A/N: Yes, it's a little early. Read the note at the end of the chapter, it explains; plus it's important._

* * *

><p>The sun crept up beyond the horizon of the human world in all its glory. In the Shinigami Realm, though, there only reached the sunlight, as always, but it was enough to stir the slumbering beings back to their eternal work. Inside one particular room, of a particular reaper, there rested two, not one, sleeping reapers, cuddled together in their warm embrace much caused by the previous night.<p>

One began to wake, earlier than usual, and peered with one glass-green eye open, somewhat blind without specs but close enough to its goal to not bother for them. Grell watched with fascination at his dark-haired superior, smiling a little as he saw his relaxed, sleeping state. Said man began to stir also, unintentionally rubbing his naked legs with Grell's under the bed sheets, causing the redhead's face to grow pink.

"Good morning, Will~," he sang to his partner as William shifted with a light groan. He stared intently at Grell for a second, who was sporting a wide grin filled with mirth, an unusual feat in the mornings (he really wasn't a morning person). William, on the other hand, groggily processed in his mind why Grell was there, and with widened eyes, flushed a bright red color.

"G-good morning, Grell," was his shaky response.

Slowly, William was becoming accustomed to saying his lover's first name, besides the touching gestures, and being so unbearably close it was actually comforting. Grell was always like this, even as he coaxed his senior to shed the sheets so he could give him a big morning hug. This was a new experience for William, treading into new territory, and it was as terrifying as it was exciting.

William rose from the bed and spoke again, in a more composed manner than before. "Would you like something to eat?" As he stood, he searched for his glasses, which had regrettably fallen from the bed, and afterwards started looking for something to put on. Yes, Grell has seen him completely nude, but it was still a little embarrassing for him, not to mention strange, to walk around sans clothes.

Grell answered with a nod, staring for a bit as he watched William scramble about, and as he moved, Grell noticed with surprise eight very light pink lines cascading down William's back. After a second, Grell realized those were scratches caused by him from last night. A light chuckle echoed in his throat, not loud enough for William, who was heading into the kitchen after finding a fresh pair of undergarments and a decent shirt, to hear. He hoped William wouldn't notice, or better yet, care for the reddened skin.

Soon after his leave, a flash of a frown appeared in Grell's features.

He was thinking too much lately, about his predicament. And it didn't help now that the intricate ruby-studded necklace was laying lazily on the nightstand, mocking him.

As he made way to reach for it and put the heavy jewels on, he could smell the wafted scent of something delicious involving baked bread.

William must be very apt at preparing meals.

_Well, he _is_ the independent kind_, Grell conjured, leaning back in all his natural glory on the bed. A slight wince of his backside was present, but not as strong as he might have thought. Well, they _did_ go at it a bit too roughly. Grell hadn't prepared himself thoroughly enough for his rear not to ache. It was manageable though.

For a second, he thought about how his time with William was more like the momentary frenzy of a first bout. There was more touching and less thinking, more of a must-act-now kind of feeling, submerged in the heat of the battle. A very _distinct_ kind of battle, one he was not afraid to lose.

With Sebastian, there was the spice of teasing foreplay, mostly by the demon; the sense with slow, crucial movements, until becoming undone, like a puddle of melting ice in the sun. Both were different yet alike, like a steaming kettle and a burning fire. Hot and stinging, but one boiling and the other scorching flames. Which was which again?

Then, like a ton of bricks, Grell slapped himself in the face. _That's not what you do with lovers! _He yelled at himself in his thoughts, a second slap. _Comparing them… Bad Grell! Bad! Baaaad!_

"Grell, what are you doing?" William sounded, watching Grell giving himself another slap across the face. When he did it though, it actually looked comical. Eyes shut tightly close and cheeks puffed up pink. Like an angry little boy.

His voice however, woke up Grell from his impromptu self-loathing. He stared at William for a moment, before looking away with haste and mumbling, "Nothing".

William won't question it though; he just shrugged and went to give Grell a nice cup of morning coffee and the freshly-heated, buttered, seasoned with strawberry sauce –because Grell loves anything with a dab of red in it–, thick slice of bread. The food, or more specifically the smell, caught the pouting reaper's attention.

He snatched the slice, stuffed half of it in his mouth, and continued to eat it greedily with a smile on his face. William couldn't help but sigh at his swift change of emotions.

"Honestly, Grell, sometimes I wonder if you are more unstable than your papers suggest."

William only received a stuck-out tongue in his direction, before that same mouth finished the hot cup of coffee and hummed a delighted coo. It irritated William to no end…but it was an adorable sight, and the anger subsided; he only crossed his arms and sighed with some frustration.

In his mind, Grell felt like a spoiled little brat, and he was sure he was sometimes, times like these; so the shinigami smiled a little maliciously. Wanting to rot just a little bit more, and placing the cup down carefully, he pulled his arms up and yelled in his cutest voice, "Hug me!" all the while shining his pearly white teeth, no one mentioned the trail of strawberry sauce running down his lips.

The tall, still-groggy reaper raised a fine brow at him before complying with his cherry lover's demand. He sat down next to Grell, who still had his hands up in the air in a welcoming gesture, and directed himself towards him to give in to his request, or should he correct, order. Grell of course merely tilted his arms to his left where Will had sat down, and after feeling the other comply and give him half a hug, crushed what little air was left out of his superior in a back-splitting hug.

"G-Grell…that hurts…" William barely breathed out the words with his bending ribs. Reluctantly, Grell loosened his vice grip, giving a slight innocent pout, which was as innocent as a serial killer acting like a ten-year old…which was closer to the truth, considering it was Grell.

Still in the embrace, he turned his pouted lips together and puckered them, all the while saying, "Okay." Although he didn't expect the light kiss he was given, in fact Grell jerked up slightly, startled for a moment, long red hair flailing about.

"W-why'd you do that for?" the still-naked reaper asked, blushing.

William, who felt Grell tense up when he leaned in for a quick kiss before, fixed his gaze on Grell's reddened cheeks. He remained quiet for another second, adjusting his glasses and raising a hand with Grell's own chained glasses. "I thought I'd give _you_ a casual kiss," he softly replied, putting Grell's red specs on his face. "I thought about being…unexpected, for once."

"And there was a smudge of red," he points at the corner of Grell's lips," right here."

* * *

><p>"Hey Grell-sempai!" Ronald came into his favorite senior's cubicle with a wide, cheeky grin; it quickly fell once he saw the mountain of papers on Grell's desk. Not like Ronald hadn't seen such a stack before on Grell's desk, but this one had spread out as if conquering the wooden structure like Napoleon to 19th century Europe.<p>

It was…intimidating to say the least. "…What is all that?" he pointed with a quirked brow at the offending tallest stack.

Grell poised to his young friend, face solemn and with dark circles. "Oh, hi Ronnie, how's the afterlife treating you?" he half-mumbled, half-moaned. He turned to face the papers he was filling and propped his head on his free hand.

Ronald was clearly surprised.

"Um…sempai, are you alright?" the blond reaper asked as he took a seat next to Grell. "You don't look…good."

Ronald knew that only a couple of weeks had passed since his little 'freak out' but in the last few days, Grell seemed so joyous. To suddenly find his friend in this exhausted state was worrisome.

The obviously-tired shinigami looked up from a form he was double-checking. "Hm? Oh, no I'm just catching up on some of my papers… I haven't really written the reports for my reaps." Grell grabbed a thin stack of reports below his elbows and ordered them, placing them to his right, along with a growing, but still considerably smaller, stack of finished reports. 'Considerably smaller' because the stack to his left was clearly almost twice in size.

And so explains the stack of papers threatening to tumble down on his desk. And Ronald shrugged, knowing that it was normal. Grell sometimes leaves his weakly assignment reports near the end date. Although this time it seems to have piled together to make one gigantic ink-eating mass of black-and-white writing madness. Hence his foul mood, and worn face.

Of course, Grell had been too busy making his life a happy march to care about his reports. He decided the moment after leaving William's sleeping quarters that wondrous morning no less than a week ago that he would not be all depressed because of his predicament; instead, he was going to be _damned_ happy about it, happy until he couldn't avoid keeping his secret a secret anymore. Preferably until his face was stuck with a smile, because then he would have to fix his face.

And he was so blissfully happy that he forgot all about his reports. Sadly, stoic William was present at work and he always liked to have his papers due on time. Lover William didn't exist during work hours.

Besides the growing work he avoided, Grell got a pretty strong headache last night as he slept, and it was painful enough to wake him up in the middle of a _glorious_ dream the redhead was having involving him, Sebastian and William in a hotel room.

Three French words: _ménage a trois_.

That was one of the many reasons his mood was foul today. He never managed to see the ending of his dream.

Skipping that, Grell didn't bother mentioning the headache to Will though, he was starting to get used to them. It was probably all the stress anyway.

_But __**why**__ did it have to happen during that wonderful dream?_

"Well, I guess I'll leave you to your work," Ronald started as he began his leave, knowing Grell needed all the time to finish. He quickly stopped when his face assumed the look of remembering something important. "Oh, Grell-sempai, I know you're busy and all, but did you hear about the director?"

At this, Grell lifted his face from the forms and looked at Ronald with a skeptical face. "Director McCallman? No, what about him?"

"Well, I heard some rumors from the girls in General Affairs that he's been keeping an eye on you." Ronald began to scratch the back of his head shyly, "They told me it might have been because of your off-days."

Ah, Sir McCallman, full name being West McCallman, is the director of the entire London Division, and a great honor it is to be one. Not to mention a great responsibility, for he is solely responsible for any incidents, and any accidents, the soul count, the shinigami welfare, and the recruiting of adequate souls to become full-fledged reapers.

As it occurs for a complete and orderly system, the first Grim Reapers, five in total, realizing that human beings were prone to an increase in population over time, divided and sub-divided their area of human soul recollection so as to ease the burden of mass soul-reaping. They also proposed a method of recruiting human souls to transform them into new reapers, making the job an easier feat. This is what created the current city-by-city division, which depends on the population of the proposed human city, and the extensive variety of reapers.

Following the order of rank, a Director is the highest in a City Division, holding the power over all of the decisions that would be made in the whole division; second to him are the Sub-division Managers, like the Dispatch Division manager or the Human Resources manager, a smaller form of a director for each department, and so in charge of the department. Below them are the Associate Managers, a secretary of sorts, keeping order and a watchful eye on the department's employed reapers. Not a very important job, but if the managers were incapable of leadership at the moment, they would be in charge.

One step lower in the latter would bring us to William's position, the Supervisor of a department, who maintains order with the lower step: the fulltime reapers, some being Senior officers, Junior officers, and Subordinate officers; in some departments, they would be called staff members or workers. It would make a total of five managers, associate managers and supervisors separately according to the five Departments* of each City Division.

Grell sometimes wondered if they just had an obsession with the number five.

Returning to the Director, there are a few number of positions above it, and each position that is a step higher in the ladder gains more and more power over the ones below. Directly above the Division Director is the General Director, more frequently called the Nation's President for its more authoritative name, is solely in charge of all the City Divisions of a nation. Besides the obvious work they do for a nation, the Presidents work as mediators between City Divisions and the Continental Union, more commonly referred to as 'Higher Ups'.

And _those_ are the big dogs that decide anything and _everything_. The lot picks on reapers like Grell who are a disturbance to the 'order'.

"Sempai~, you there?" Ronald called, waving a hand in front of Grell's face. It was enough to wake him from his momentary stupor.

"Yes, I'm here, Ronnie." Grell continued to fill his reports, now that his thoughts are clear once again. "So you said McCallman is keeping an eye on me? Himself? The higher-ups must think I might go crazy on the long run." One paper done, passed to his left, "Then again, he's been keeping an eye on me ever since the Jack the Ripper case. Why the fuss now?"

Ronald took a small pause to wait until another paper was filled and done before speaking, "Well, he appears in the hallways personally now. You know he stays in his office on the fourth floor, always. It's odd."

Grell only barked a laugh and continued his papers. If the director was personally keeping an eye on him, he wouldn't give a rat's ass, and never did. McCallman could say all he wants about him to his superiors, the reports are due today midnight and if Grell doesn't fill them all by that time, no day-off, which means no Sebastian.

_There's still another ninety-three reports to do! _He thought to himself with anger. _Aagh, why did I _**not**_ do this earlier?_

A pause of the pen. _Ah, bliss, that's right_._ The loves of my life floating through my head~. Ah, Juliet has nothing on me._

_No time to sigh, Grell! Write, review, sign!_

Ronald was openly gaping after seeing his redheaded senior move his writing hand like it held a mind of its own. Better judgment told him to walk away; he hoped there were no errors in the end…

_Snap! _The blond flinched as he heard a something break, like a twig.

"Gah, my quill broke! Ronald, get me another one!"

_Why doesn't sempai just use the typewriters?_

* * *

><p><strong>11:52 p.m. <strong>

_I feel like I just threw myself over the window of a six story building and landed with my face on a pile of manure…make that cow manure…_

Someone cleared their throat, catching his attention. "Sutcliff, I see you finished on time," William called, the last paper in hand and verified. A glance at the redhead spoke volumes.

It was as if Grell's hair had a life of its own, waving almost…broodingly, the bright and shining red color appearing dull. There is no need to mention anything else; Grell might become suddenly overly conscious of how he looks. Well, Grell _did_ completely fill one hundred and thirty-two reports in seven and a half hours.

That's actually pretty slow, but an amazing record for the sulking redhead. It was obvious the paperwork had taken its toll on him.

"Grell," his apathetic demeanor disappeared for a moment, "Go on, take your rest tomorrow. You deserve it." William stood, grasping at the large stack that weighed on his hands. It took the full length of his arms and still the papers reached up to his neck.

Report day was always so tiring…and he had the gall to wait until Grell finished his quota to take all the papers written for the week to the Admin department. Let them sort the papers out, everyone in his division was long gone and probably resting. "I shall take this to be accounted before the clock strikes twelve. Dismissed."

Grell brightened up at his dismissal, squeaking with delight. "_Finally!_ You better hurry up, Will, it's five minutes before midnight!" The perked up disaster also stood, stretching his tired limbs, gaining a few pops of stiff bones, "I think…I'll start my one-day vacation now, Will. Bye-bye now!"

William waited until Grell had rushed out of his office before leaving himself. He thought about locking the door so as to not return and lock it, but…the reports required both his arms. A long sigh left him. Now he would need to come back after depositing the reports with the Admin department.

"Really, Will," he heard from behind, startling him a tad. No more words left the shorter reaper, he just reached into William's pocket for the key and locked the office, put it back in his trousers and spanked him boldly. "Now hurry!"

If the blatant order wasn't enough, the hard smack on his derriere spurred him to dart away, mostly from the shock. Grell snickered to himself as he watched William scurry to the next department, feathers all ruffled up yet papers perfectly balanced.

"Now that my work here is done…sleep awaits."

* * *

><p>It was past midnight, almost one in the morning, and the air was tense in the mansion. Grell had never been this late; he always made his entrance before the sunset, mostly <em>when<em> the sun was setting for dramatic background effect, the little self-proclaimed actress.

Sebastian was not pleased.

But no, he was not angry, he knows rage and he didn't feel the least bit irate. The demon recognizes that if he was indeed mad, then the first thing that he would want to do was physically ail someone, preferably cracking some bones.

No, Sebastian was feeling antsy and agitated. He found himself walking endlessly around the mansion, trying to stay occupied, which was impossible considering that he quintuple-checked everything; nothing to do now. But after the clock chimed at midnight, the bustled demon stayed still in the foyer, staring blankly at one of the columns. Staying perfectly still for almost an hour wasn't doing any good for the mind.

He was worried.

Effectively, as he checked the hour for the fifty-seventh time that night, thirtieth since he stood still as a statue, it was exactly one, and his stomach turned with anxiety. His demonic hunger didn't help with that feeling.

Did something happen to Grell? Was their scheme found out? A low knock at the door distracted him from the alarming questions. The butler calmly trotted, mentally racing for he felt the heart he was not used to hearing loudly pound against his chest, and went for the front door. He opened it to find—

Nothing.

There was no one at the door.

Sebastian furrowed his brow in confusion. Had he heard wrong?

He decided to take a look outside for a better view, but as he kept gazing around, the disappointment settled in him, burrowing a whole in his stomach. He must have deluded himself into thinking someone was at the door, imagining the sound. Was he _that_ desperate and worried?

_Maybe the reaper can't come today, _the red-eyed butler pondered, _And to think that I was looking forward to seeing him again… Idiotic human emotions…_

His eyes shot open wide at the sound that invaded his unprepared ears.

"Oh, Romeo, Romeo~! Wherefore art thou Romeo?" he voice rang out to the moon atop the ceiling, legs dangling from it as red hair glided against the soft wind with a surreal shine.

One delicate hand spread towards the shining moon in the night sky, trying to reach it in vain. "Deny thy father and refuse thy name! …Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love!" The lithe figure stood against the moon, gesturing at it with its hands in a bow.

A wicked grin made its way toward his hidden lips. "And I'll no longer be a _Shinigami!_" And with that, he hoped off the ceiling with a flip, stolen red coat dancing with his long bloody tresses.

Sebastian watched through the play's scene interpretation, a sly smirk playing on his face. So deny his nature, forget the 'demon' and forget the 'reaper'?

_Whether if we are two lovebirds separated by boundaries, forget the boundaries, throw caution to the wind, and dare to cross the line. _

How very Grell-like. For all they are outside of each other's Realm is just that, living beings with no name for themselves. The wonder of an option, a _choice_.

Of course as Sebastian was philosophizing about Shakespearian literature in his life, he failed to realize that Grell's intention with jumping from the ceiling was to be caught in the demon's arms. He noticed not a second too late, and clumsily captured Grell with his arms before a bigger accident occurred. He hid his distress expertly, and shifted ever so slightly to enter the mansion.

Grell still had his cheeky grin in place. Whilst he wiggled in the hold, the raven butler only returned his smile as the red-heeled feet dangled outside of his grasp.

"And 'shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this', my lady?" he replied at Juliet's line with Romeo's own self-thought. The jumpy redhead giggled madly at the familiar play's words; though the lighthearted sound bounced off the walls and turned eerie in the dark, masking it with undesired malice.

"Ah, I think for now it is enough… I must apologize for my tardiness, but paperwork got the better of me, barely finished an hour ago," Grell admitted with a yawn. His last act drained all of the energy that was left in him. "Right now, all I want is…to sleep…"

And sleep he did, surprisingly right then and there.

Sebastian chuckled silently at Grell's unpredictable ways. One second he's reciting Shakespeare to the moon and the next, he falls asleep after a stunt like jumping off a rooftop without a care of the laws of gravity.

"Oh, what am I to do with you?" the demon chided to no one in particular, smile never leaving his face. "What am I to do."

* * *

><p>The summer morning was finally a warm one, the London sky being cloudy today, but the sunrise avoided those clouds for now. Grell had the most placid, serene look on his face as he slept, and yes, a dab of drool running past his lips. The cool feel of a napkin cleaning his chin, and the annoying sunlight beaming against his closed eyelids, disturbed his rest.<p>

Peeking one eye open, he was greeted with the most delightful smile.

"Good morning, Grell."

Sebastian was sitting on the edge of the bed, relatively close enough to the waking reaper if he needed assistance removing the sheets. All the while he had the greatest smile on his face that just screamed 'ecstatic' about something.

It was unlike his usual happy expressions; for one, it held a feeling of true joy, not like the easily-made fake smiles, a mask for humans to feel safe with.

All of Sebastian's smiles looked the same, but if one pays close attention, they are distinguishable and completely different. A wider pull, a slight arc, a tighter shape; you would have to see him almost every second of every day to notice the slight twitches and pulls of the lips as they change, like one Phantomhive boy.

"Ah, good morning," Grell smiled himself, the wonderful lightness of a completely rested body being the first on his mind as he stretched lazily. Although the second thing to cross his mind was just how happy Sebastian looked. It was overall unusual and disturbing, and Grell could practically _smell_ the playful cheeriness. "Is…something wrong, Sebas-chan?"

For some reason, hearing that nickname made the smile grow even wider, if it was possible.

"No, nothing. I was just watching you I suppose," the butler answered, pulling back the bedcovers. Grell then sat up and flung his legs over the edge, sitting with a small hunch. He noticed he still wore his clothes, even his glasses. Well, all except his red coat; everything else appeared to be the same.

Focusing on his state of dress, the drowsy reaper flinched slightly at the feel of his chin being gripped and tilted. Firm lips met his rosy ones in a strong kiss, not forceful enough to bruise the skin but enough to keep them linked together like magnets.

A surprise from his demon love, but all the more welcomed.

Sebastian kept his grip and bit Grell's lower lip softly before pulling back. "You looked so tempting when you slept, you know," he added with a chuckle, watching as Grell's cheeks took a pink shade.

"Oh really?" Grell drawled out, wiggling shoulders since his chin was still caught with slender fingers, "Are you suggesting that you eyed me the whole night?"

Grell licked his lips, feeling them dry after their shared kiss. Though he moistened them to soothe the light bite that was taken over his lip.

"I wouldn't say _eyed_," Sebastian enticed, sweeping his tongue over his own lips in a pause, as if savoring the lingering taste of the reaper's rosy flesh. "I would say that I studied you like a book. I simply couldn't put you down."

Grell only giggled like a school girl. To have his Sebastian gaze at him like a predator, and he wasn't awake to feel those calculating, vermillion eyes on him? How disheartening.

A sharp tug pulled him from his fantasizing and down onto the same eyes he was thinking about just now. "I enjoy your company, Grell. Very much so, even if you aren't awake."

The words came out trivial, too much for anyone to find romantic, especially Grell, but it was his way of saying 'I missed you' without sounding laughable and needy.

And he _did_ really miss Grell. It was shocking himself just how much.

Sebastian released the reaper and lifted himself from the bed. "And while you're up, would you like to go into town? I have a surprise that should be prepared by now for you."

Two strong hands gripped the black lapels at his chest and pulled him forward, right into Grell's Cheshire grin. "Would I!"

* * *

><p>The cloudy skies of the metropolitan city left no clear hue of blue in sight, all one could take in were shades of grays, light and dark, spread about above; today was particularly shrouded, even for London. The clouds weren't heavy enough for rain but the wind had picked up slightly, enough to send some newspapers flying and ladies groping for their skirts.<p>

Humans called it 'bad weather'.

Grell on the other hand _loved_ windy days, that way his long hair could toss and be cast by the breeze, to be admired and envied by all the other women that passed by, even if they found the blood-red color ominous.

More ominous would be the gleeful red eyes of his companion.

"Oh, what a lovely day, don't you think so Sebby?" Grell skipped ahead, his whole body shivering with anticipation over the new gift he was going to get today.

Sebastian watched as the redhead spun on his heel and sent his hair flying up again. The length was impressive with the help of the wind, but even more was that thought of all the time and work Grell must spend to keep it in its shimmering glory. "Yes, a bit humid but bearable," he casually answered, glancing around for the desired store. "I understand you couldn't go out last time, because of my master. But now feel free to prance as you like, I assume you don't mind the stares the other humans are giving you."

"Ah, I'm used to that, dear. I've been the black sheep since I can remember, not like it bothers me." Grell stopped in the middle of another skip. "Well…sometimes it does, but it's just one of those things you have to live with, you know?"

Sebastian kept his observant stand as the lively reaper turned glum in expression. The butler shifted around some passing commoners and went beside him, gripping Grell's gloved hand with his left and giving him a light tug forward. "And what are you doing thinking like that? I would assume that the simple-minded, over-the-top, infamous red shinigami ignores all lesser beings and their monochrome lives. Cheer up, we're almost at the store."

Sebastian continued to guide Grell across the street to take a shorter route. A petite smile made its way to the redhead's features.

"Well of course I do, Bassy! Being too extravagant is my nature! But," he paused to see the surrounding area. They were heading into a busy part of the district, and if he recalled correctly, William was to be assigned a couple of souls on this vicinity. "…Maybe we should go through another part?" He had the bad feeling that if they stayed around for too long, he would find them.

"It's too crowded for my liking."

Sebastian raised a brow at him, but shook his head, "We could, but we would have to turn around and take a much longer walk. We're only a couple of minutes far from the place now."

Grell grumbled in the cramped space, but stopped from complaining, hearing the drum of thunder in the skies. It seems that while they walked, the sky got much darker, and humans were hurrying to escape the warning of a downpour and the risk of having their belongings ruined.

Despite the sudden change of atmosphere, Sebastian only moved them ahead into an alley, part of his shortcut. The weather had taken a turn for the worst, but hopefully the rain would wait until they returned to the Phantomhive manor.

Perhaps the slight change in direction affected Grell more than it should; he felt a bubbly prick in his head, like someone was grasping at his mind. It was familiar for some reason, as if he had felt that pinch before. Was another headache around the corner?

Everything was instantly forgotten when he heard and saw a sharp pole aimed at Sebastian's head, "Watch out!" Grell cried out, pulling the demon by the hand that was still caught in Sebastian's hold, away from the sudden attack.

To his demise, he recognized the steel pipe-like shape instantly.

Grell wasn't smiling anymore. He froze, wide-eyed once he heard the cold, detached voice coming from the rooftop.

"Pardon me, but kindly step away from my co-worker, _demon_."

The deathscythe receded back to its original form, every section making a sound _click_. William hoped down from the top of the building he was standing by, down to face the only alleyway's occupants with a stern expression. He had been standing idly, checking his ledger for the next poor soul, when he saw the unique long red hair flowing about in the streets below near his location.

Now it was William's turn to be displeased.

He glanced the profile of the demon, noting how he only smiled with taunt at him, before focusing on Grell, who seemed to shrink and try to blend into the wall behind Sebastian's frame, which was impossible. William wasn't angry particularly at Grell; he was infuriated that the red-eyed _mongrel_ was holding Grell's hand in an affectionate fashion more than anything.

Grell, mentally, was panicking beyond belief.

"What's this?" he referred to the friendly hand gesture, frown growing.

Though it appeared that Sebastian thought he meant the whole situation. "Why, a date with my lady, no?"

All was deathly silent after that, time frozen for one minute in a smothering lapse.

A date…_with 'my lady'?_

As they were about to begin the interrogation, two figures watched from the distance atop a chapel, one reddish brunette, grinning smugly with brown eyes; the other placid and blank, long black hair drifting as piercing blue eyes observed the brewing conflict.

"Your assistance is always a great help, Seere," the smug brunette praised, patting the other's back.

The one called Seere didn't flinch to the strong pat, only continued to watch like a stone. Though the words he uttered were clear and deep with a surreal essence.

"Of course. Better to see how the fruit ripens."

* * *

><p>*When I mention five departments, I go by the basis of the Shinigami OVA (it's wonderful, by the way). It mentions a Human Resources Department, General Affairs Department, Administration Department, Dispatch Management Division (it reads department to me), and the Glasses Department.<p>

_**A/N:** Ah, the cliffhanger that everyone's been waiting for; now, I might be able to update in 2 weeks (schedule change since summer says are plentiful, yet busy) but if I get a nice pile of reviews, I'd be even more motivated to update early for you all! But they have to be well-made, no single sentences. Tell me what you think of the story so far! _

_And don't even _think_ it's ending soon, there are plenty of unanswered questions and developments to come. _


	10. Falling Down

_N/A: I am so sorry for updating so late; I really _did_ plan on updating much earlier…but the revival of my personal life, art, disturbances in my schedule, and a cat in heat yowling at night that __**no mate**__ can silence didn't help. By the way, two blackouts, and three nights without internet last week…good thing my phone lived, if only for five hours of overuse…_

_That cat is mocking me, I know it. _

…_And if anyone didn't know, Chapter 9's title (a reference to the play _Macbeth_) is a phrase that conveys a depressing mechanical beat of time, the original text meaning that life's only goal is to meet with death (in the last chapter meaning __**'**__all good things must come to an end__**'**__, but shorter and less cliché)._

_Now, here's a whopping 16k long chapter you all deserve!_

**Warning**: Offensive/derogatory language later on. Like…way past the half of the chapter. You'll know.

* * *

><p>"What seems to be the problem?"<p>

The unnerving silence that flooded the area broke only thanks to the demon's curious words, though one deathly glare given to Sebastian hardened, still.

In that one alley, dirty and grim like the rest of the murky streets, a human could have sworn the air was heavy and thick enough to cut even with a dull, rusty knife. Street rats seemed to avoid the welcoming slime of the cobblestones there by instinct, and they did well in trusting them. Against an aged brick wall of the isolate path, two very alike, yet very different, immortal beings faced each other; one glass-bearing and clearly infuriated, the other placidly cool and smirking.

A death God and a Demon stood, each with their own thoughts and completely unaware that the sky was beginning to thunder with equal building rage. All one petrified reaper could muster was to quiver with dread, knowing that he could do nothing now, only watch the cruel play in front of him.

In allegoric value, Grell was the author of this tragic play, and now he was forced to watch from the audience as the scene he created acted out, no matter how much he loathed it.

Unavoidable like death, but a fate much worse.

Regardless of a fruitful author's requests, all was done, and there was no last-minute editing to do. There can be no regrets in the production, and no preventing it either.

William can tell.

He understood the situation perfectly, for the demon had so easily and recklessly informed him of it…their _courtship_. Grell was infatuating over the foul creature once _again_, and it looked like this time the collared beast was playing along with him. It simply didn't make sense to the upright, visibly irate man, to put trust in a shaky foundation. Demons are not creatures to be trusted, and they clearly state they follow their own philosophy, and no one else's. They can easily change their opinion if it benefits them.

Doesn't Grell know that he can't trust them? That he should _never_ trust their selfish kind? That for a demon, love is just an empty word with no meaning?

Shouldn't Grell see that they have no heart, incapable of feelings, only fulfilling wants, needs and impulses?

_Doesn't he understand that he could get hurt again?_

Sebastian can tell too.

He can unmistakably see that the nosy reaper is angrier than he has previously displayed. And through the corner of one eye, he can catch Grell cowering behind him, slumped into the wall with misery, or is it fear he smells? It is most likely because he just admitted they were together on a date to the other shinigami, and now Grell was going to suffer the consequences for both of them. For breathing each other's air, fraternizing with 'the enemy'.

The bold servant admits that perhaps he shouldn't have answered mister Spears like he did, daringly and without a care, but as a demon, it was part of his aesthetics to never lie. There was no denying the use of loopholes and paraphrasing, though. He liked ambiguous questions and orders.

Besides, there's just something about that brunette reaper that ticks him hard. Something that irks him to bother the little bothersome _prick_.

The smile on his face was even beginning to twitch in annoyance just _looking_ at his kempt appearance. It was no longer an amused, placid smile; the crevice was shifting, only kept to hold the illusion of control.

He understands why reapers hate demons, and yes, demons loathe reapers too, mutually. They share a common goal, for different ends but nonetheless, same: a human's soul. And death gods absolutely _despise_ the hell-bound cretins for making their jobs worse, not only eating souls, but killing unnecessarily and piling stacks upon stacks of reports and files that should never exist. Demons didn't understand the need for such an organized life; it was useless to them, but then they really didn't live in an orderly way.

Perhaps some of the gifted hate lay buried in the past too, but demons tend to forget about history. They see no meaning in remembering things long gone, only the present mattered.

It was just instinct now. To live.

Every demon felt the same way; they couldn't stand the gods that looked down at them, naming them trash of the world. Only living to destroy, eat and soil. But Sebastian can feel something more for a shinigami, something a beast like him hates to acknowledge.

Jealousy.

For having power, enough to choose those who die and those who can't; an immortal power sought upon by every conceivable being, mortal and immortal, to be able to bring death to an adversary, or just have the satisfaction of granting a permanent end.

For some, death is revered as the first step towards the eternal life, what humans call the life after death. Others bow in awe as they venerate its pureness that sows the land, that which restarts everything back to its original roots, that which every living, breathing organism shares knowledge of: all that lives, in the end, must die. It shapes the humans to acknowledge and grow with it, to live every day to its fullest or waste it entirely, never thinking about the inevitable end. It is morbid beauty, and what has the sheer blessing of eternally granting death?

A Death God.

And a demon will never have that. Respect.

Death can be taken as a blessing, a peace of mind to finally realize that the suffering of living will soon end.

Demons can only rip and shred into ash all that is considered 'good', causing a suffering for the living, most of which will name them a great evil, abominations, _sin_.

Hated.

No one will ever need a demon, not really. A promising human only needs one to grant their selfish wish in exchange for their soul. Give or take. And that is the _true_ reason demons and death gods can never live hand-in-hand as compatriots. No matter what circumstance, a demon will always be just that, a foul, deceitful beast undeserving of love.

And nothing could ever change that.

It was just instinct now. To live with it.

If there was one thing that Sebastian could never understand, and only recently began to appreciate, was Grell.

How could someone who was his enemy by blood ever want him? Ever need him? Ever _love_ him to such a great extent?

He doesn't need to question it further; Grell is the only being ever to see him as a beautiful lover, and _never_ as a disgusting pest. He is the only one ever to take his opinion, even relish in hearing it. And it is with a heavy heart that Sebastian admits, only to himself, that he feels a little guilty for causing Grell so many problems.

He just has to break that instinct, somehow.

Grell can tell, _truly_ tell. And he should, for he caused this.

He knows that he will lose something precious today, whether if it's a friend, a lover, or something more.

He hates that William is angry with him, at Sebastian.

"My problem is, what do you mean by 'date', _demon_?" William finally spat, after one long look at the red-eyed beast. His eyes softened slightly peeking at the red figure behind the slender demon.

_Grell, why are you hiding behind him?_

He hates that Sebastian urges William on, like he knows he would do.

"Why, exactly what it means, mister Spears. I was on my way to take dear Grell to a shop until you rudely interrupted us," the butler answered, his slanted eyes gleaming with unadulterated murder. The plain smirk riding his face didn't reach his narrowed eyes. "I would've thought better of such a respectful shinigami. Do I really annoy you that much?" Sebastian formed a fake pout, which would never convince anyone.

"_Shut up_," was his quick, growled reply.

It was rather obvious testing William was not a very good idea, but before Sebastian could ease the rising fury, he was shoved roughly to the left with the tall reaper basically running into him to reach Grell.

He did not take well to being pushed aside like asparagus on his master's plate.

"Grell", William started in a lower voice, "What are you doing?"

The alarmed redhead took a few seconds to contain the constant shaking. He opened his mouth to answer, but clamped it shut once again. His meek voice was sure to fail, and…what was he going to say anyway? That what Sebastian was saying was true?

He just couldn't will himself to speak. To hurt William's feelings.

But if he didn't say anything, he would _still_ hurt William.

"I'm sorry," William heard from behind him, "But I thought I just said that," then he felt a hand grip his shoulder, "We are together."

Something about that phrasing didn't seem right.

Irked once again, he slapped the hand away and swiftly turned to face the other. The glass was _really_ starting to spill over. "What do you mean by 'together'?"

He couldn't possibly mean _that_ way…could he? He's just taunting him again…right?

Sebastian let himself chuckle at the display of agitation. His conscience was screaming at him to not say it, but the little sadist in him was having too much fun with the situation.

He felt the little stab of guilt in his chest again.

"Is it that hard to figure out? I mean 'together' exactly how you're suggesting: casually, romantically," he stopped to give a heavier smirk," and sexually, of course."

_Oh, that was the _last straw_ in the goddamned _haystack_, for pure emphasis, _There was clearly a vein about to burst on his forehead, but then he heard the last few words, _Taunting words were just unnecessary foulness and__—_

Wait… _Did_ _he just say…?_

"You…_you've coupled?_" He whispered with a most incredulous stare, eyes widening a margin.

His grip on the deathscythe tightened as a scowl tried to shape its way to his stern face. The odd reaction caught Sebastian's attention though, for he had expected the suited reaper to start pounding him instantly with his scythe, which a part of him was looking forward to take. If anyone should get punished, it should be him and not Grell. The theatrical reaper had done nothing wrong after all, he can't help what he feels, no one can.

Putting two dogs in a small cage wasn't a good idea.

"Yes?" Sebastian answered hesitantly, unsure of the reaper's sudden stillness.

It was proven that his previous assumption was correct, and now William was just experiencing the calm before the storm. A hissing whip whizzed in the air as the versatile deathscythe shot forward so fast, Sebastian barely had time to react to it, too caught off-guard by the sudden attack. His neck had been spared of the extended weapon but his shoulder had not. Its bottom shear grazed the top of his tailcoat's lapel and scraped part of his right collarbone, surfacing some blood and staining both the scythe and the black cloth red.

"How _revolting_," venom racked in his voice, as if the venom would seep into the new wounds he created to further pain his target. He _abhorred_ the demon's cocky attitude, and the mere thought of Grell writhing in pleasure, submitting to this…this…

It was enough for his muscles to give in and slash at the insufferable fiend! That _lowlife_…was stealing _his_ lover?

William removed his scythe with some hidden disgust, both for the blood now on his deathscythe and the thought of _his_ Grell sleeping with _**that**_. He would have to wash the porcelain skin of his partner eighteen times, enough to burn bright red, with tile detergent! And even _then_ he believed Grell would still be tainted.

In the middle of his bathing formula, '_that'_ was starting to press at the fresh wound with one hand and a frown in his direction. Without concern for the demon, he turned his head to glance at the aforementioned shinigami now behind him, trying to find some kind of explanation in the shorter reaper's face. Grell was known for his flirtatious ways but, to actually _sleep_ with someone… Had he been seduced? Forced?

Grell snapped his attention back from his thoughts when he heard a muffled tear of cloth, and glass-green eyes widened at the sight.

He had not seen that William had made such a move towards Sebastian. He was too caught up thinking about how to phrase this situation, but now he needed to calm this senior before things got too out of hand. And they would, he knows, in a matter of seconds.

"W-Will, wait!" Grell desperately tore the scythe from William's hand, which had slackened seeing the other in near-panic, "P-please don't hurt him!" The plea surprised William greatly, enough to show in his face.

Grell didn't know what to say, what to do to make it all better. But he didn't want to see anyone injured, so he just hunched with the scythe tightly against his chest and pleaded again.

"Please…don't," he croaked with as much sentiment as he could put into words. It was the only thing the heeled reaper could think up at the moment, to take the only weapon in sight and secure it. But there was still danger afoot. There are more ways to hurt someone than with a scythe.

He hated how powerless he felt, how utterly _useless_ his head was, unable to think of even a simple excuse or explanation. Or even to just confess that he was seeing them both, and have that heavy weight taken from his shoulders.

The worst pitted feeling was that he felt cowardly. Grell was too afraid of what would happen if he said anything.

William stared at him as the shorter clutched his pruning deathscythe with force. The dark-haired reaper wanted an answer, but Grell was refusing to look at anything, he just continued to grip the scythe with tightly shut eyes. _Could it be that…?_

Sebastian watched with some puzzlement at his frantic lover. And…there was something odd today about Spears…the way he was watching Grell attentively. On that same thought, Grell wasn't acting like himself either. He was quite desperate to tear the sheared weapon away, but there was a lingering feeling in his stomach as he watched the other reaper start to caress Grell's head.

"Alright," he soothed Grell with a hand, trying to sound as quiet as possible. William stopped comforting Grell to leer at the only other person in the alley with bitter eyes. Something inside Sebastian's head clicked together, and he leered back at the reaper, understanding something more of the present situation. Being good at guessing things didn't mean he liked what he guessed.

Another thick thunder rumbled in the clouds.

"Does this mean that you, Spears, have feelings for _my_ lover?" A sharp tone shadowed the spoken words, seeing the way the mentioned reaper hid Grell behind his wider back.

William took a second to clear his throat in an attempt to regain some composure, noting how the Phantomhive butler was turning acid. "I'm sorry, I think now _you_ are misunderstanding. Grell is _my_ lover, not yours, nor will he ever be."

Sebastian actually snarled, somewhat hidden under the continuing cast of cries in the gray clouds. So he was correct, the little _hound_ claimed Grell to be his own, but that alone raised many questions.

Had Grell been with the reaper since long before, or was this relationship new? Had he intended on seeing them _both_, at the same time?

The butler was fairly knowledgeable with Grell as a loose spirit, and with that always in mind, he made sure to keep things interesting since it was possible that, if he lost that sparkling interest, the exciting redhead would flutter away from his grasp, bored and seeking new surprises. That was one of the reasons he kept a heavy flow of gifts at his disposal.

Since he didn't really understand a heart's inner workings, he tried to be thoughtful and watchful, perfect in every angle. Keep a respectful eye on his red Juliet, catch every little detail, and memorize all those different actions and reactions. Flatter with gifts, shower with affection. Or was it shower with gifts, flatter with affection?

Could it be that Grell had lost interest in him?

Somehow that thought carved a whole deep in his stomach, and his fresh cut pulsed with a stinging burn. He kept a wary eye on them, observing William as he shifted his gaze constantly towards Grell.

The sight made his chest unbearably tight and his heart sunk like liquid iron into his stomach.

Was he not as perfect as he ought to be? Was it all too much? Too unnatural?

Did he ever really have a chance to be with a reaper?

"Grell, what is the meaning of this?" The words came out louder than the butler intended, and he felt his lips pull down in a frown with each word.

Lifting his gaze from the ground, olive eyes, darkened with the dim light, glossed over with what could be restrained tears. The red-rimmed glasses had slipped to his nose with his lowered head, blurring his vision, but they worked to hide smudged black lines from constant rubbing; with a stray flash of lightning, it appeared that his lower lip bled slightly from biting it with his teeth, toying with it unconsciously as he fought the doubt fluttering in his head again, plaguing his thoughts. Once the lightning died out, all that was left was a dark, thin line in the shadows of his lips.

Many possibilities existed, but he just couldn't keep quiet any longer. They needed to know and, even if Grell was terribly afraid of what would come to pass…

It was unfair for him to keep quiet. He was lying by not saying anything, by just playing the King in chess and being happy with a stalemate. Neither a win nor a loss, just trapped like a hunted rabbit in a hole. It was cowardice, and Grell was no coward.

He was bold, daring, unrestrained.

That was who he was.

Taking a second to swallow the heavy lump that formed in his throat, Grell gathered his scattered thoughts and breathed deep, keeping his voice as straight as possible. "I… William, before…"

He had to say it, and it ached him to force the words it out his lips, but he still smiled weakly with moist eyes.

Grell hated this, the hated so many things about this moment, in front of William and Sebastian, his weakness bare for them to see. But the one thing Grell hated the most was himself.

That was why he smiled; it would all be his fault. Not Sebastian's, who was quietly watching him from a few feet, or William's, who had turned and was waiting for him to start.

He had to smile for them, betray his wretched self. Because they were not smiling, and they wouldn't smile, not now, maybe never, he would smile for them too.

Never was a long, long time.

"What…what you've said is true, what both of you said is true," Grell closed his eyes to match his smile in a playful gesture, queer to the grief present in his voice. "…I'm sorry, but I haven't been very honest. W…Will, before this past month, I had been with Sebastian…as he stated…f-for a long while…"

The hesitant reaper paused to let those words sink into his oldest friend. He hoped that his senior wouldn't react too badly, but all hopes went up in flames when he saw the shocked look on William's face.

"N-no, wait, Will! It's not what you think!" He rushed to try and shed more into the light. "I wanted to tell you, really, I did, but I didn't know how to put it…and I was just so happy that you finally returned my feelings…"

William had returned to his cold façade, and Grell felt scared, unable to read the other reaper at all now. He didn't want to make William mad, but then, he didn't really know _how_ he would react, if he would be angry, or something else entirely. Grell only wanted him to understand, "I just couldn't build up the courage to say it."

The face he had built after years in his position. That same mask that hid anything his mind kept; the barrier between the world, and his most private of possessions, his thoughts, was his greatest defense.

Grell didn't betray him. He betrayed Sebastian; if anything, he _fooled_ William.

He felt like an idiot, for thinking that Grell had learned to keep his word. Grell had said, promised even, time and time again, that no matter who he infatuated over, he would always come back to him, loyal to the end. It was one of the few things that was stable, over the years and decades. One of the things that was certain, no matter what. The faithful puppy that always came back in the morning after escaping late at night.

_He's really outdone himself this time. He's really, __**really**__ outdone himself this time. _

All he could do was hide behind that mask, watching with a darker light.

_Was I right to love him? Was it wrong to let myself be dragged by him? _

_Aren't I just a 'backup' to him? If he lost that demon, did he think I would take him back, like nothing happened? Am I the stupid one? Am I mistaken?_

_Was I right to take off this mask, to show him my true feelings? _

Inside that mask, saddened eyes would have showed.

_But…_

_I still love that idiot…_

Sebastian had nothing to say.

So his lover had spent the month with someone else. It didn't surprise him. So Grell had forgotten about him for a whole month and returned to him like nothing happened, tail neatly tucked between his legs like a secretly shamed cat visiting a second owner. Something about it all didn't surprise him in the slightest.

After all, he was a demon. He had betrayed many others, humans and demons alike. He had tricked humans into deals and contracts that were purely one-sided, picked at souls from the streets for being easy snacks, and fooled many women's hearts into spilling their secrets out to the night's sky. He was detached, shelled into a ball that never felt the world, only saw it from a distance. A globe in his study, only for him to spin and watch, use as he pleased.

He saw everything else live, he saw everything else move, breathe, touch. Nothing touched him, nothing moved him; it was all a display, a game of sorts, and he was the master of the board game.

It was a risk to let himself be a piece in the game, to let himself 'feel'.

Yes, he could have fun; demons can find many things joyful, entertaining, and they can even fall in love, if they want. But they can also be hurt, feel pain; they can be broken, crushed, lied to. But who would want to feel pain, who would want to remember bad things, painful things? Who would want to be on the board and risk being used, manipulated, thrown away like a toy?

Sebastian feels used, he feels forgotten, like a toy.

He doesn't like that feeling.

"Then Grell," the quiet demon started to say, "Did you ever intend to tell _me _just what you were doing?"

Wide-eyed, Grell turned to the demon. "Se-Sebastian!"

Needless to say, he was shocked. Had it sounded that way? Had he focused so much on how William would take it, that he forgot about Sebastian's feelings? "It's…it's not like that!" he yelled out at Sebastian, but more to himself. Had…had he really forgotten about Sebastian?

But Sebastian didn't listen to him. He tilted his face to the side, ignoring him. Grell felt infuriated with that.

"I love you! And I love _you_ too!" he yelled at the shaken reaper, who looked at him, surprised with the statement. _Why are they so impossible to please?_ "I can't help this feeling; I can't help that I love both of you. And I feel ridiculous for saying this, but it's my eternal curse, having such a greedy heart! But…I suppose that's just like me… I've always secretly wished to have two men after me."

He gave a bitter laugh, bringing the scythe in his hands down to his stomach. "I love you…I love you both too much, so much it _hurts_. Please understand, I couldn't deny any of your feelings. I…I wanted to have both of you… It's my fault." Grell lifted his eyes, watching the gray world blur again. It slightly annoyed himself, feeling the moistness in his eyes. _God…why do I have to be so teary-eyed…I feel so weak…_

So he loved them.

William felt a bit foolish thinking that Grell thought of him as just an affair. What in the world had made him think that way? He wasn't the type to get depressed so easily. Being around Grell for so long was starting to affect him.

He still wasn't happy, but, his heart was in a better place.

He wasn't about to share Grell either.

Sebastian felt somewhat reassured, but not enough to split a grin. He was still hurt, being forgotten like that. Wasn't being lovers enough of an excuse to keep other men away?

Well…he really didn't know how long they've known each other, Grell and the workaholic. He didn't even know how long his thoroughly-confused 'woman' had been waiting on William; longer than they have been together, for one.

He wouldn't forgive the brunette reaper, for taking his mate. Even if the man really didn't know Grell was taken.

He didn't take well to sharing.

A small drop of cold moisture landed on the butler's nose, distracting him. He glanced at the sky and noticed the thunder stopped, but the clouds looked heavy and dark. It was starting to rain, how fitting.

William was the first to speak.

"Grell… I believe you, but I cannot accept this. I…I refuse to see you if you continue to court with that fiend."

The shorter reaper gaped at William's words. "B-but Will—"

"I agree with mister Spears," added Sebastian, which surprised the two gods, "Grell, you can't have both of us. And I will not allow it either."

Vermillion eyes appeared opaque, dulled like the gray skies above them. "You need to choose one of us as your lover and leave the other."

Grell was left speechless, but a deep, small part of him knew this was coming. After all, both his lovers were extremely jealous men. However, that was one demand his heart was not ready to face yet. "Y-you can't just tell me to go pick one of you and part with the other for good! I…I can't do that…"

"You have to, or _we_ will," William muttered. "Please, try to."

The skittish redhead looked to his left, where Sebastian firmly stood with a blank face, then changed to his right, where William was poised. He noted with some concern how the white shirt visible around Sebastian's chest turned an alarming shade of red. And he was concerned over William too, but not the same way. Rather, it worried him that his bespectacled senior looked a bit glum. Perhaps the right word was wistful, or melancholic. William took his previous news hard.

Grell didn't know that Sebastian was the one who was feeling worse for wear.

But…did he have to choose right now?

_Well,_ Grell began to elaborate, _William can be mean sometimes, not that I mind getting the cold shoulder from him –he's just so _hot_ like that–, and he's not exactly the most romantic person around…but he _can_ be sometimes. I know that it's because he doesn't know how to show it. Will is just so cute like that! _

_And…he has always been there. As my friend, or just my supervisor, and even as a shield. He always cared for me, he just never said it out loud. Every time I caught a glimpse at that rare nice side, I fell even more in love. It gave me hope that he felt the same way, and he did. Oh, yes he did._

_But then there's Sebastian. Sure, at first it wasn't so serious, Sebby himself would've never allowed it, which…kind of made me sad –I mean, it was like he was on an attack on-sight command!–, but then things just…drifted nicely. He slowly, and hesitantly, warmed up to me and, although he rarely told me how he felt, like Will –God, they're the same, quiet with their likes and very vocal with their dislikes–, I just knew he started to like me. _

_And, maybe he doesn't really know what to do. I mean, he's a demon after all. Demons don't exactly have a doctorate on emotions, much less on love. But he tries, so very much. And…Will, too, is clueless, but he also tries…! They…they're much more alike than I remember…_

Grell looks from one to the other briefly, trying to make up his mind, even if just a little, _But if I can't choose, they will, and…if I think about how Sebas-chan is and how Will reacts…_

_They'll end up fighting, mercilessly. One might end up killing the other…_

_No, no! I don't want that!_

_But…who do I choose? What do I do?_

The flustered reaper restlessly fiddled with the pruning deathscythe, clenching and unclenching his hands around it. In the end, it was impossible for him to decide, especially right then and there, but he refused to accept it. Because if he didn't choose, _they _would choose for him. And that would not end nicely.

But Grell really couldn't imagine himself without the other. It ripped his insides apart, thinking that he could never see one of them, ever again. Heat rising to his face, Grell lowered his head, ashamed.

Either his heart was deeply connected with both of them, and it really was impossible for him to pick one for himself, or it was foggy and unsure, unclear of who _really_ possessed his heart.

"I…can't. I can't choose like this…"

The two rivaled lovers secretly felt relieved at Grell's sincere reply, but then the next task would prove to be a difficult and painful one, because Grell would not approve.

As William was about to declare their personal war, an idea suddenly came to him, a rather hopeful idea. He thought, Grell was just under pressure, and because of that, he was unable to think hard and long enough on his decision. Maybe…it would be the same…but perhaps if Grell was given enough time…

William dared to look at the demon, hinting that he had a solution, hopefully, for Grell to take. If not a solution, then preparation. Sebastian nodded slowly at him, partially interested in what the reaper had to say.

"Then, if it is alright with you, we will give you a week to think it over," he calmly suggested to Grell, and Sebastian understood. It would give each of them enough time to prepare for the result, whether if it was rejection or the eventual death match. Grell, though, didn't seem to realize this intention.

"W-what?"

"Seven days," Sebastian answered for the other shinigami, burying his hand in his pocket for a moment to gather his pocket watch. Popping the watch's cover over, he registered the time to be ten past noon, then closed it again, "Today is Saturday, so you will have until the clock strikes midnight on Friday. Does that sound fair?"

Grell wanted to scream no, that he would still remain the same, but his lips formed a different word altogether.

"Yes…"

The red-eyed butler pocketed his silver watch, "Good."

"Then," William took back his scythe from Grell, seeing that it was no longer necessary to restrain it, and grabbed a loosened red-clad wrist, startling Grell, "You're coming with me."

"B-but Will!"

"But, nothing," William began to pull Grell with him, despite how resistant he was being, "You are to return to our Realm immediately and go about as you normally would. And you will _not_ be allowed to see neither _him_ nor me while this week stands, is that understood?"

Green eyed widened at the given orders, staring defiantly at his superior. "You won't change my mind with that," the taller reaper muttered, starting to drag Grell with him, with some difficulty.

He stared through his bangs back at Sebastian, who had not moved an inch from his place. Grell wanted to resist because for some reason a part of his head was yelling at him, saying that he wouldn't be able to see the demon again, that he still hasn't spent his promised day with Sebastian, or even half of it. He tried to pull out of the strong grip on his wrist, but with all his struggling, it only clamped down harder, painfully even. With one last struggle, he tossed his head towards Sebastian, almost swinging the glasses off of his face, prepared to cry out for the demon to help him.

But then he saw Sebastian clearly.

His gaze was fixed at him, standing firm, and the stained white shirt looking even worse. But what really got him were those eyes. Those beautiful red eyes that first entranced him to the demon, which always gleamed with joy, whether from sadistic pleasure, hunger, bloodlust or laughter.

They lost all their light.

They were dark, raw, unmoving.

They were sad.

And then he realized…that he didn't just hurt William.

He crushed Sebastian.

Unaware of his limp state, Grell continued to stare at the chilling garnet eyes, even as the scenery began to change, and the gray colors cleared little by little. All he could picture was that sorrowful stare, something he had never seen before, and that it was his entire fault. He thought first and foremost, that they would be mad at him, ready to maul each other's faces, and even his own, but…

Maybe…all he did was betray them, all he did was trample on their feelings…

He worried so much about the hate, the _anger_…he failed to see what really happened.

Even with the painful grip on his wrist, which dulled his muscles, his feet felt like lead, dragging and stumbling under his weight. There was an unbearable heat wave surging through his face, and the world clouded under fresh tears.

_I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…_

* * *

><p>Atop the old chapel, a distance away from the dark alley, the livelier one of the two men began to shift from his place on the ceiling. If one was close enough to glace at the brunette's face, they would see a poorly made pouty face adorning his features; poorly made, because it was obvious he was amused.<p>

"Oh, little fruit, don't look so down. Someone will catch you, but for now, stay high in the sky," he sung aimlessly to the wind. The words were directed to someone who couldn't possibly hear him, but the strange man acted as if they had, "Right, Seere?"

The taller, much quieter man stood still, only giving a few slow blinks in his fidgety partner's direction. The sky had finally decided to burst, and a light rain befell upon London. "Of course, sire."

The loyal words, an answer he's heard too many times from him, didn't convince the brunette. He gave a low whine, not pleased with his 'pet' in the least. He changed the bored look for an entertained one quickly, reminded of the scene he just witnessed. "You know, it was a good thing that I had you attend that human Earl's ball a month ago. Although it was only to observe the few contracted demons in London, my little Seere ended up finding my lost _fruit_ in the bushes!"

"I am forever at your side, sire," was a flat-toned, smooth remark.

Again, his loyal pet was boring at times. "Yes, yes, your formal ways never seize to amaze me."

Taking his eyes off the lone demon now in the alley, he bore a strong stare into the icy-blue eyes of his servant's, pocketing his gloved fingers snugly inside his black trousers, although thanks to the rain, it was proven a harder task to accomplish. "Do me a favor and take me back, I feel dreary in this gloomy town."

Lips twitched to reform the smug grin he always bore. He will have his fun, once the time comes.

Frozen eyes without even a shadow present in their irises shined with an ominous translucent fuchsia, pupils slit like a cats. A light French accent lingered in his next words.

"As you wish…_mon père."_

* * *

><p>The trip back wasn't very pleasant, but Grell wasn't about to complain. No matter how much he wanted his discomfort be heard, a deep, small part of his brain kept telling him that he deserved this much.<p>

His thin wrist had been gripped too strongly, causing a heavy throb through it that forced the compliant reaper to follow. It might have been the lack of circulation in his hands, but Grell could have sworn that his fingers were white as snow under the black glove.

The Shinigami Realm came into full view as he was dragged by his wrist sharply, led to his assigned room after some time, hallways upon hallways that made him dizzy. The aching in his hands seemed to increase with each hurried step that he took, and the one staircase that led to the sleeping quarters actually made his head swim, the taste of bile faint in his tongue for the next minute.

William was being relentless, wringing him along by the wrist like an angry parent, not knowing how much his grip and pace hurt the small child. But Grell was no child, and he was not small. One swift pull threw the nervous prey clumsily to his living room floor, and the door closed shut as the blood started to pump to his freed wrist.

William stood at the other side of the closed door while Grell struggled to stand with a numb hand, heels catching with his coat in the first two steps.

"Will, what are you doing!" he tried, yelling through the wooden barrier, the sound of his loud voice echoing back in the small room. It came frail and panicked to his ears, which made Grell wonder for just a moment if William also heard him like that. He certainly felt that way.

"You will stay here for the rest of your 'day-off'," William calmly stated, beginning to muse with his glasses.

After gaining the feeling in his hand, Grell shot forward and tried to pry the doorknob open, but it was locked shut. "You can't keep me locked in here! William, please let me out!"

The mentioned reaper pocketed his partner's key in his suit, taking a deep breath to ease the tension present in his face. He didn't want to lock Grell up, but knowing him for as long as he has, Grell needs a moment to process everything.

William didn't enjoy acting like the bad guy, but…someone needs to let the frisky reaper know how serious he was, and how serious this situation was. He might have accepted, even if just a little, that Grell was seeing a demon in a relationship, but no one else will.

He was being considerate, if anything, of what Grell wants, and not what he _needs_. At least that was what he kept telling himself.

William might want Grell more than anything, anyone in the world, but there is no cheating in this game. What Grell decides will be final, and getting on his good side would only mean he isn't playing fair to…_Michaelis_, who isn't able to come to their Realm so easily.

It was why Grell decided on taking days off for himself, to see his 'Romeo'. The whole ordeal was obvious now, to his eyes.

Grell's cries and pleas from the closed door died in his ears, but they never went unheard. He may have been a cold man, but he wasn't heartless. Each and every word dove straight to his heart, cracking what was left of it.

Grell hated being alone, and William hated leaving him alone.

"I'm sorry, but you will stay there until tomorrow, and tomorrow…" he took a silent deep breath, but his throat still felt closed, "Tomorrow we will be just co-workers."

Inside the closed room, it turned as quiet as a grave. If there was anything that William was thankful for right now, it was the door between him and Grell, for he was sure that he wouldn't be able to stand seeing Grell's crushed face.

When there was no answer, William figured that Grell must have broken down in the other room, not wanting to be heard. He started to leave when he heard something that felt like a ton of bricks crushing him into ash. It was such a quiet voice that wrecked…_everything_.

"Just co-workers? Figures you would want to forget everything."

It left him quiet, baffled.

Speechless.

_Forget everything? _

How could he ever want to forget Grell? Every single great moment of his long life was lived with his red-loving friend, giving him memories worth remembering. Every single _worst_ moment was caused by his insufferable partner's hands and words, doing and saying things that should _never_ be done, and said.

He wanted to correct him, to yell at Grell for even _thinking_ that he was that insensitive.

But nothing came out of his mouth. He couldn't speak.

William leaned against the door, defeated, _destroyed_. Through the thin gap, he could hear faint crying, paused only by a small chocked chant he was able to catch, even as just a broken whisper.

'_You just want to forget me…You just want to forget…'_

That was the final blow.

* * *

><p>In the dark. Quiet. An echo of a click.<p>

His feet willed themselves to reach the bedroom, without thinking, without a reason. They were rested on the floor, like they usually would be, as he sat on the edge of the bed still in his work clothes.

He wasn't going to bed; he was just sitting here, thinking. In his own world.

William was not the kind of man to do something without a means. He didn't idle, he didn't think twice, and he wasn't really very emotional, or good with words for that matter.

Perhaps Grell was his exact polar opposite, then. The smaller reaper tended to be too forward, he expressed his opinion, no matter how unwelcomed it was, and did many things just because they looked 'fun' or 'interesting'. That last one was both a good trait, and a bad one.

At the moment, the seated reaper was holding a small red ribbon between his fingers.

Had William been as concentrated, or conscious, with where he stepped, he would have seen the slightly-ajar drawer that stood near the doorway inside the bedroom. A very inconvenient place for one, but small rooms tended to be inconvenient too.

And had he been careful, or _alert_, he wouldn't have run into the open drawer, torn part of his left sleeve, and cast the same drawer onto the ground, spilling the pressed shirts, ties, and a long-forgotten strip of red cloth.

It took him back to a time when he and Grell had been considered close friends, if you take into consideration how isolate William is, and was. That time wasn't the best of times though.

The hallways were more crowded then, since there had been a full dispatch department at the time. Most of the other reapers worked on the field, and there was less demand for reports, unless it had been a fairly recognized human individual who had been reaped that day, or mass soul gatherings. And Grell, being a fresh reaper straight out of the academy, didn't have many souls to collect, only to assist his seniors when help was needed. Although, when help _was _needed, it wasn't Grell who was sent to the field.

The red fellow stuck to hanging around William, who had been indifferent to Grell's advances, even his sudden declaration of love. Just because Grell confessed to having a crush on him didn't mean that their fair relationship as friends and co-workers was ruined. Though, many of the other co-workers who found out his 'preferences' took it to either ignoring the poor redhead, or pushing him away.

William was also the only one who didn't start looking at him like he was from another planet. Or worse, a disgusting abomination.

Back then, and even now, people didn't take well to a man loving another man. You could say that there were many hardships between Grell and his fellow comrades for a long, _long_ time. There still are, sometimes.

"Hey, Will~," a familiar pitched voice rung from a distance, catching the busy subordinate's attention. William had been in the middle of pouring a cup of tea when his attention was diverted, some of it spilling when a red mess of hair collided against him in a crushing hug.

He could only sigh, already used to being trapped in his friend's clutches, although, he groaned out of frustration when he saw the spilled tea, "Sutcliff, you really should stop appearing out of nowhere."

Grell pulled back from his powerful embrace, shining fine, pearly whites that would scare any other normal man into a trembling puddle of goo, "But that's my thing!"

After pouring another cup of tea for the new company, Grell started talking about his morning, how terribly _awful_ his hair was and how it took him nearly an hour to comb knot-free. He came up with the excuse that 'he's just getting used to the longer hair' and 'it'll be easier once I get a nice conditioner'.

William felt like he was talking to a female co-worker and not the strong, rather fearful man he had been paired with for his final exam back in the academy. Then again, back then, which really wasn't that long ago, the queer fellow was just as…queer.

Through the door, he could see some of the other reapers sizing up Grell, to which he narrowed his eyes.

He felt responsible for his friend.

"Hey, sweet cheeks, how's the ass grinding coming along?"

Grell didn't need to look up from his desk to know who it was.

"Get an afterlife, _Banter_," he grudgingly ignored, going back to redoing part of the report he had messed up before. 'Banter', full name Bancroft Terence, was one of the more open people with his dislikes.

Grell didn't understand why the light blond picked on him. He never did anything wrong to the man who was his senior, in fact, he never really spoke to him, only in the mornings, when they rushed to get to work on time.

That was before he openly declared that William was his and his alone. Why was that enough to make people look at him weirdly, he didn't know. But he was starting to get tired of the constant pestering.

It's not like _he_ changed overnight, _everyone else_ did.

For a second, Grell gave a faint smile. Everyone except for Will.

Coming back from another lunch break, Grell finds the reports he was working on before to be missing from his small desk. And so was the pen, and his ledger, and his black coat.

He was the outcast, because he was different, both physically and mentally, because no one else had hair-raising blood-red hair, because no one else had unusually sharp teeth, because he felt like God messed up his gender. And sometimes, because no one bothered to listen to him.

Looking down on the desk, he saw a scraped up word that very clearly read _FAG._

He wasn't _gay_, he was one hundred percent straight. If he was in the right body.

It's not like anyone bothered to listen.

Sitting down in his desk, Grell decided to rewrite the report, simply because by now, it most probably was trashed, burned up, or God-only-knows what.

"Hey, sodomite, how's the paperwork coming along?" Another day in the week, and Banter was at it again.

This type of interruption was normal now, but never welcomed. That man, and anyone else who utterly despised him being a 'fairy', tended to pester him just enough to drive him near the brink of snapping back with a sharp and rightful punch. But then, that was what they wanted, a physical dispute big enough to jeopardize what was left of the victimized reaper's position and prestige.

No one would take his side, no one but his self-proclaimed boyfriend, which wasn't enough in his favor. William had told him time and time again, avoid problems, control your emotions. Avoid problems, control your emotions.

Grell dared to face his superior this time with an exasperated frown playing on his face. "Would it _kill_ you to just say my name, _once?_"

At that, the blond huddled his gloved hands in his pockets, "Why should I? Everyone already knows what you are."

A snort came out in response to the word 'what'. _He says it like I'm a different _species_._ "Oh, _my_ bad, I forgot that fairies don't deserve names," sarcasm dripped from his lips like honey. Now, if only that honey was real and _poisonous_ so he could throw it at his infuriating senior, preferably in the eyes.

"Sheesh, you don't even know why you keep getting paperwork, and you expect me to call you by your name?" There was a snide tone in his voice; that tone always irked Grell.

Green eyes narrowed behind red-rimmed glasses, "What do you mean by that?"

"Are you that stupid?" The comment was not taken nicely, nor did it _sound_ nice, "Did you seriously think anyone would want to partner up with a drag queen like you? When was the last time you went on the field? Three months ago?" There was a laugh at the redhead's surprised reaction, "All you do is write paperwork for everyone. You're not a reaper, you're a pass-along secretary!"

Grell was shocked. He _had_ been left to do paperwork in favor of his seniors, but…was it because of that? Because he was 'gay'? They didn't want to be partnered up with him because of that?

He refused to believe it.

"It-it's not because of my preferences!" he yelled a bit too loudly, attracting attention. Some people stopped in their tracks at the outburst.

"'Preferences'? How cute. You still think that way," Bancroft patted Grell's head, like a child, which gained him a low warning growl. The hand quickly clenched to grip a handful of red hair, and Grell snarled at him loudly, feeling a hot sting where some strands were pulled out. "Wake up _brownie,_ and smell the shitty air! The only person who would want to partner up with you has a stick up his—"

"Mister Terence, respect your junior." The hand instantly let go of his hair, and another, much gentler, landed on his shoulder, reassuring.

Some of the other reapers continued their way, a disappointed look hidden in their faces. William stood a full inch over Grell's assailant, and he used it well. Height was one of the reasons he was respected despite his rank. "Now please give the right example and go do _your_ paperwork."

A loud scoff escaped Banter, taking one step back casually. "Speak of the devil," he whispered outside of earshot. That was all he did before going back to his workplace.

William finally released a long, frustrated sigh and rearranged the two ledgers, his and a new one for Grell, under his right arm. That guy was starting to get violent, and he was getting worried about it. "Sutcliff, here's your… What's wrong?" He saw that his effeminate friend's glassy green eyes had watered, tears withheld and still unshed.

Grell felt ashamed for allowing his eyes to water. His head hurt slightly from the strong grip but it wasn't enough to make him spring tears; what had bothered him was that Banter might not have been lying.

"Nothing, just that jack_ass_."

"It's not very polite to insult your seniors," William chided.

Grell channeled the chilling stare he was giving to the ground towards the taller reaper. "It's not very polite to insult _juniors_ either!"

William didn't say anything about that, the rabid shinigami was right. Instead, he decided to put Grell's new ledger on the small desk and wait until the anger died down, and the other's eyes were clear of unwanted moistness. After a few quiet minutes of watching Grell knead the floor with the sole of his shoe, he chose to speak carefully, "…Are you mad?"

The new glare he got was just as intense as the last one, which made the brunette wince from the visible rage, "Am I _mad_? Do I look like I'm having a wonderful tea party?"

"No," William averted his eyes from the blazing jade ones, but kept his neutral face, "Sorry."

Grell's anger lessened towards his former partner. He really couldn't stay mad with Will around, whether if it's at him, or at someone else. It's like his icy personality cooled everyone off.

Once the redhead felt moderately tolerant again, he playfully punched William's shoulder and offered a smile. "What are you apologizing for? You're not the one harassing me every free period."

"Obviously," William rolled his eyes, rubbing his punched shoulder. Grell's 'playful' hits are synonymous with _hard_, though Grell doesn't know his own strength. "I just feel like I should apologize. I feel like it's my fault."

"Will, it's not your fault, it's nobody's fault that I like you," he sighed, "It's just… I guess it's just one more thing people have against me."

With Banter spitting profanities at him, his other seniors dumping all their work on him, and the rest of the department ignoring everything related to him, Grell was starting to feel…_rejected._ Like he really was unwanted here.

How do you live if no one else wants you? How _can_ you live if no one wants you?

"Do you think it was a mistake that I became a shinigami?"

William refocused his eyes on Grell; dumbfounded, he just continued to stare. _What is Grell going at?_ "Well…I mean, I'm obviously never going to fit in. Never have, and everyone either mocks me, or fears me. Is it…is it possible that I was just an accident?"

"What are you saying!" the questioned reaper almost yelled, "You're the first shinigami ever to get an Ace, two in fact, on your first scythe-wielding practice! Handling souls is innate for you; not to mention you have excellent combat skills and deathscythe coordination. The only bad part is that crass temper, you get carried away with it, but even _that_ is helpful at times. You'd be one of the best reapers in the dispatch, if…only your paperwork wasn't so sloppy…" he trailed off with that. Grell's paperwork was _ghastly_ sometimes. At least…he was getting better.

An odd sound caught William's ears suddenly, and then he realized that Grell was laughing. It was off because the series of hiccupped chuckles were different from the redhead's usual laughing fits. "You know, I think that's the first time I've ever heard you compliment me so well." William frowned, and Grell kept laughing. "Thank you."

The taller reaper indignantly huffed, thinking that Grell had been laughing about what he said. "I was only stating the truth. You really _do_ have a crass temper."

William didn't know that was the first time Grell laughed because he was happy.

A door opened and closed in the bathroom, and the cheery reaper stopped washing his hands to acknowledge the new company.

The new company was _not_ welcomed.

"Oh, it's you," the blond disappointedly called, his feet tapping on the tiled floor. Work restrooms were fairly clean, spacious and rarely filled, five or six people using one daily.

"I'm just as disappointed, Banter. You're ugly face gets on my nerves." Grell turned to dry his hands so he could bolt out of there…except his hands were still soapy.

The tapping stopped and a soft _tsk_ echoed on the walls. "Says the red fucker with _shark_ teeth."

Bare hands removing residual soap with an open faucet froze, fingers twitching. _Alright, I've had enough._

Grell gave up on his hands and swiftly pivoted on his black shoes to glare at the blond, "Yes, Bancroft, I have a thing for guys. I get it already, it pisses you off. Everybody gets it. Now why don't you go pick another hobby before I put my big, pointy _shark_ teeth to good use?" Unexpectedly, and even obnoxiously, Banter started to laugh, "It wasn't, a **joke**."

An offending finger landed on Grell's chest, pushing lightly, but enough to make him wince. One look at his taller senior was enough, he got the message through, a message that clearly stated, _don't touch me_. Bancroft didn't care though, he just grinned in his sadistic pleasure.

That look made Grell scoff loudly. _This guy's capable of jacking off to my misery. Hff, homophobe's just as bad as me, hell, _worse_._

"You're such a tease! You don't scare me; I know just as much as you do that you won't _dare_ to; and get yourself in a bigger mess? _Ha!_" This time, the whole hand pushed him back, his side sliding against the smooth counter where the sinks were. Grell's anger was starting to boil. _Don't _touch_ me, bastard. _"Go ahead, bite me. Nice and bloody, so everybody knows."

Grell was about do just that; his nerves were itching to hurt the blond, bring some kind of pain to _shut him up_, but he couldn't. If he did, Banter would use it to his advantage and complain to their superiors, and he wasn't sure if they would listen to him either. His hand clenched, suppressing the impulse. "Oh, you're not gonna? Is _wittle_ Red too scared?"

_Baby talk,_ Grell thought, _how mature._

The urge to roll his eyes kept ringing in his head, but Grell refused to do it. He wasn't going to stop sending glares.

The glares didn't make it, Banter snorted with a scowl. "That bad boy act is getting old, _real_ old. Get a new one."

"I don't think you realize but it's not, an act. _Banter_," he practically spit acid in the name, shaking the hand pressing him off of his chest.

"And I don't think you realize it but you're a _horrible_ liar." He received an ever sharper leer. By now, Grell's face could make a twelve-year old cry, send a hungry tiger away, and make a rattlesnake coil up before burrowing in a deep hole. Two sets of eyes narrowed. "You don't intimidate me, Queeny; it's just you and me here."

His next words pulled a nerve. "No one wants you here, _cock knocker._"

_Cock knocker? I'm about to rip yours off! _Grell took one deep breath to stop himself from saying that. _Control, control…_

"That's not true, there's at least one person that doesn't mind me, and appreciates me too!"

The echo of their word brawl reached one certain brunette, who peaked by the door to the washroom to see what was the commotion.

"Oh, you mean your little _boyfriend_?" He pushed Grell back again, this time his lower back connecting with the counter, "Do you really think that dear _William _cares? I bet he doesn't give a _fuck_; actually, I think he's tired of you too. I think he doesn't even _like_ you. You're just _baggage _to everybody, _especially_ him."

Picking key words to further instigate him, Banter accented each one with a sharp shove.

Grell was slowly losing to his building rage. _No, _but he still kept holding himself back, _Control… _"Stop. It."

"No, you know what? He _pities_ you!" _Shove._

"That's…that's not true!" _Con…control… _

"Well, what do I know? Maybe he's a fag too. He's gotta be the _only_ one who bothers to _talk_ to you, hell, he's the only guy that _hangs out_ with you. Do fags stick together, or someth—"

Ever seen a glass spill over? _This_ glass spilled, fell over the table and broke into hundreds of cutting shards.

"_**Shut up!**_" There was pain, almost immediate, then a piercing noise ringing in his ears. Then there was a second aching, in his side, and he realized he was on the tiled floor, blood trickling down his nose. He looked up, astonished. William heard the smack of skin and the thud of a body hitting the floor from outside. Thinking of the worst, he rushed in, about to speak up, but one look at the situation said it all.

Grell had punched him, _hard_.

"Shut up, _shut up_, _**SHUT UP!**_" He was lifted from the ground by a dainty hand, _strong_ for a dainty hand, "Don't you _**dare**_ call him that, you _asshole!_" And again, Bancroft met the floor, but before a solid shoe could make it to his ribs, William grabbed Grell and pulled him away, interrupting the fight, "You're just a _fucking_ brat! He's a _thousand_ times more of a man that _you! _You _irritating, __**bitchy**__ jack__—__!"_

"_Grell, stop!_" William found himself struggling with his grip, but the blond was gone and out of sight, tail tucked between his legs, and his strength faltered then. "That's enough!"

The furious redhead pushed the hands holding him off, "_No_, it's _**not**_! Not until he _bleeds __**five **_pints!" But William grabbed him again before he ran out the bathroom after Banter. "Let, _go!"_

"Calm–calm, down! _Calm down!_" Grell shook him off this time, but didn't go anywhere. He just stood there, refusing to look at the brunette. "What is it?"

"It's _nothing_," Grell hissed, "I just hate that little _dick."_

The taller reaper stopped himself from scolding Grell; he's heard much worse from that same mouth. At the moment, he was worried about Grell's temper. He's been tempted to fight before, but not enough to wish to _kill_ someone. There was brutal murder written all over Grell, and something about it screamed that the redhead would not hesitate, in the slightest. "What happened? What did he say this time?"

Grell kept quiet for a minute, still refusing to meet eyes with William. It took that much time for the imminent fury to dissipate, at least enough for him to think straight again, "…It's nothing. Doesn't matter."

He started to walk out, not wanting to talk anymore, but a hand grabbed his upper forearm. The short-tempered shinigami stared at the hand for a long time, before lifting his eyes to finally look at the mirrored green eyes.

"You're lying."

He couldn't take it any longer. He was tired of holding back, tired of the insults, tired of doing _nothing_. Tired of his useless seniors and tired of silence.

The hand slowly lessened its grip, and his body instinctively moved closer, catching William in a hug.

He was tired of all the hate. Of the knowing looks, stares and whispers.

William was slightly surprised by the sudden embrace, but he returned it, somewhat. He wasn't experienced with personal space being taken up, so it was a shaky hug, at first.

He was tired of being treated like an animal. Like he didn't exist. Like he didn't _feel_.

A few minutes of silence ensued, mostly because William had no idea what to do about the situation, and the redhead kept nuzzling in his neck, which was uncomfortable to the simple reaper.

Grell was the first to break the silence, hesitantly, and stepping back awkwardly, "…Can…can I ask you something?"

"Anything," William answered as he patted his suit's sleeves, glad that the uncomfortable air was over.

"You…don't hate me, do you? I mean…you don't get in trouble because of me…r-right?"

"Of course not," he deadpanned, quite clearly, "What could possibly make you think that?" Grell frowned and looked away. William knew what that meant, "Was it Terence?"

The silence he received was answer enough, "Don't listen to him." If the runaway tried anything, Will would defend Grell as eyewitness and say it was self-defense. Grell might not have known, but their department supervisor was testy about work interaction, not individuality, and William had been talking to him about the building agitation in the workplace.

If there was a nudist in his office, he couldn't care less, just as long as no one was bullied, instigated or causing a disturbance in the work area, all was good. Their supervisor would not stand for Terence's behavior, and he won't.

"But…it's just that…" uncertain, he sighed. Grell was starting to feel depressed with it all. "He's not the only one, you know? And…and I'm just so _tired_ of it. I…am I better off dead? I-I don't—"

"Wha…Grell. Don't you _ever_ think that." Grell was shocked out of his slump by the two hands hooked onto his arms, "_Ever_."

William was giving him one earnest look, determined to shake that thought out of his friend. _Dead_? How could Grell even _think_ that? Grell was many things, but he was _not_ suicidal.

The red-haired reaper found himself with moist eyes again. At least he had someone who _wanted_ him, and the only one that mattered.

From the looks of Grell's watering eyes, he must have said the right thing. Or the wrong thing? William noted in his head that he needed to read a book on why people cry… But then he saw the light pink tinting Grell's cheeks and the quiet 'okay' he peeped. He thought, maybe he's doing something right.

"…Can I ask you something else?"

William blinked this time, and realized he was still holding on to Grell's arms. He quickly, and awkwardly, let go with a coughed, "What?"

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

Something strange happened to Grell. He heard something he thought he would never hear out of his sweetheart. It was caught between gasped breaths and wavered without air.

William was laughing. Really, genuinely laughing.

"What's so funny." Grell asked more as a statement. It made him a little angry. _What_ is _so_ _funny?_

The somehow-amused reaper wiped the corner of an eye, tilting his rimmed glasses to the left. It was odd but he just started laughing naturally, _how undignified of me_, he thought.

It wasn't anything that Grell said, but his childish–no, _childlike_ innocent question, it was just so…what was the word?

"You're asking the wrong person. I don't know what pretty things are." He saw Grell give a pout and he chuckled again, _I think I know what the word is, _"But I'd say you're very charming, when you're not interrupting me from work, that is. Cute, even."

"C-cute? I don't want cute!" It may have been a nice compliment, but 'cute' was not what the wrought-up reaper wanted. _A child is cute, a puppy is cute. Even _dresses_ are cute. Women are _not_ to be called cute. They are either pretty, beautiful, or _gorgeous_; cute is just too little of a word!_ "Is it this ribbon? Here!"

He untied the red ribbon that was done where his tie should have been, and practically threw it at Will, were it not light and soft, so settled for pushing it onto the taller man's chest, "Am I cute _now_?"

Taking the ribbon, William still felt that puffy warmth in his chest that was making him laugh, "More so than before. Yes."

"Y-you! You're impossible!" He simply refused to be called cute and left him there in the washroom, bursting out of it with an exasperated grunt.

"And I thought that he _liked_ compliments," William frowned. He looks at the red ribbon, and frowns deeper. "What's so bad about being cute?"

Grell didn't know he was the only person that got compliments like that from Will.

In the present, William felt a hot trail of moisture run down his face, rubbing his thumb over the red silk he kept as a memento of that time, of the first time he laughed. It was silly in his head, but he couldn't bring himself to ever rid himself of that strip.

"How could I ever forget you, bloke."

* * *

><p>The rain had relentlessly poured down in London, even reaching the Phantomhive manor. It was just past one, but the dark, thundering skies made it seem as if it the sun was fleeing from the harsh weather. It looked like nature finally acknowledged that summer had arrived, and welcomed it with a bang.<p>

Sebastian didn't really notice. Nor did he notice when he opened the front doors that he was leaving a trail of water along the corridors. Although Bardroy had, and failed to catch the butler's attention in order to tell him.

The cook also wondered what was in the large box he held.

Before the silk-haired demon knew it, he was inside his given room, opening the package to examine the shoes. Well, boots…heels?

He wasn't really sure just what it was, only that it was very glossy, reached the knees and had long, thin, high heels that Grell once referred to as 'stilettoes'. It was unusual, somewhat provocative and sultry, making his young master gawk when he first saw them displayed in a questionable store as they were just walking down the streets in search for a new top hat.

The heeled monstrosities, as his master named, quite frankly screamed _'for mature audiences only'_, both repelling customers and attracting curious, perhaps perverted eyes. But the strange footwear held one distinctive trait above all the others.

They were red.

He was positively sure that Grell would _melt_ over them.

_Ah, but now he can't have them,_ Sebastian thought, rather glum. He was angry at the redhead, at first, but now there was an inexplicable hole where his heart should be, or at least that was how it felt, seeing as how it would be impossible for his heart to have disappeared so unnoticeably.

If he could put the feeling into words, Sebastian would say that something shriveled up and died inside him, rotting. He frowned.

_What an unpleasant feeling_.

Storing the box in his closet, he came across the red dress he forgot to return, and with it, resurfaced some memories he would much rather leave inside his head. Remembering their last date made the hole bigger, and he shut the closet before it became worse.

_Stupid human emotions…_

Another blank moment passes, and he finds himself facing the young earl in his study, who was surprised to see him without the flashy reaper, though he was more surprised to see the state of the wet butler's damp clothes.

It took another few seconds to register his human master was speaking.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

Ciel's visible blue eye widened, surprised that his perfect butler had been distracted. "Sebastian, are you alright? You seem quite disoriented, and I asked for some tea." Truth be told, Ciel was actually worried; all his butler did once he entered unexpectedly was position himself where he usually stood and drift into his own world.

Bowing in apologies, the demon butler left to prepare some tea, as requested, and further dug into his mind. His body moved automatically, the routine action embedded into his being already, and reached the kitchen easily, without his notice. The action was done, albeit slower, but complete, and he headed back with a wheeled tray to the boy waiting for his drink.

During the way, a strange part of him started thinking.

_This week. Grell has a week to make up his mind…and if he does…would he pick me? It doesn't seem like he would, or would he? _

…_Though…even if he does, what can I do about the distance? He is a reaper, and has a responsibility as one, as do I to the humans I contract to; it would be the same as it was before. We would continue to keep this relationship a secret, and stay apart. _

A wooden door is opened, and he steps inside with the tray, _But…if he were to choose Spears, he wouldn't have to hide anything, he wouldn't have to wait, or plan… He could move freely…_

After pouring the warm drink, he places the teacup on the desk, _With me…he has to sneak around…and it's risky if someone finds out. With me…_

"Sebastian."

The mentioned butler returns to the young boy's side, bowing, "Yes?"

Ciel takes a small sip from the tea, Jasmine he recognizes, he turns slightly to face his butler, "Really, there's something wrong with you today; you didn't even mention what tea it was, or knock before entering. It's rare of you to be so distracted."

Much to his chagrin, he saw the child was right. He had been too immersed in his thoughts to even knock before entering the study, something the meticulous servant always did.

He was embarrassed. "My apologies, my lord. It will not happen again."

Ciel nods in agreement, "Yes, I know." Then he remembers that Sebastian was supposed to be with someone else. Had the plans changed? "Sebastian, where is Grell?"

Though he was a child, he was able to see the demon hesitate on his answer. "He…returned to the Realm he belongs in."

"He returned?" That didn't seem right. Grell tended to stick around a little too long, for him to leave early is…not right, very odd. "Did something happen?"

"It does not concern my lord; it is a personal matter, and he needed to leave," he replied smoothly, even with an aching chest.

"Personal matter?" Ciel repeated for himself, and saw his butler nod. _Does it have anything to do with how Sebastian is acting now?_ "What personal matter?"

He received no answer. "Sebastian, tell me," the dark-haired boy demanded with his authoritative voice. "In detail," he added quickly, knowing how this demon liked to leave him dangling halfway.

Sebastian gave an inward sigh, "Yes…my lord."

Ciel momentarily flipped when he saw Sebastian sit on his desk. He was about to say, well, _yell_ something about how improper it was, but he cut himself off, thinking that Sebastian never did inappropriate things on purpose.

It must have been pretty important.

"Since you insist, my lord, an unexpected person happened to meet us in the streets of London and…some things were revealed, for both sides, if you would so kindly leave it at that."

But Ciel did not kindly leave it at that. He kept bothering the demon about it, like any curious child would. Now, normally he would never refer to himself as a child, but sometimes, it was a smart excuse to get his way.

It took a while, more specifically almost half an hour, but the young family heir, proud of his detective skills, managed to dug out that the 'unexpected person' was that odd reaper he formally met in the circus investigation last winter, William T. Spears –he also noticed the venom that came out of Sebastian's lips with pronouncing the name–, and that the 'things revealed' were in fact, some things that he would rather not like to know in his young life, including sexual affairs, and his butler's pessimistic attitude.

"So…you're telling me that, for the past month, Grell cheated on you with that other reaper, and now you two decided on playing tug-a-war?" Ciel summed up, one eyebrow high in the air in a questioning matter, except it was the one covered by his bangs so it just looked like he felt concern for the demon. Which, perhaps, he did. His seated butler nodded in agreement, elbows rested on his thighs, making his back look slightly hunch. From the looks of it, Sebastian Michaelis, his proclaimed-invincible demon, was beaten by a broken heart.

How ironic that the one thing that can kill a man is what can give them life. Even more ironic was that such a useless emotion for a demon could cause its downfall.

Love. Such a strange emotion. One that can cure hearts and bring so much pain.

"You know, that doesn't surprise me," the boy added, a mocking tone overtaking more than he had originally meant. He flinched some when he saw Sebastian's solemn face grow upset, and he could feel a bit of hurt in that fallen stare given to him.

_Great, now I feel guilty for making him feel bad._

Sebastian was not amused. He did not need his human master's ridicule, he could do that to himself alone. So the demon just lifted his body off of the study's desk, apologized for using it as a chair, and went back to his everyday position behind his master.

He just wanted to get the day over with and go crawl in a hole, decide whether to die there or not.

"Sebastian," _Oh, what now?_ "What are you doing sulking around for?"

He felt the right to be angry at that, maybe slap him for it. What is he _sulking around_ for? It's not like he _wanted_ to sulk, it's just a normal reaction, and Sebastian would dare say a normal _human_ reaction, to his dilemma. One can't help what they feel. It's just _natural_.

Before he opened his mouth to retort, Ciel had stood from the big, plush chair, which gave a slight creek of the wooden legs rubbing against the carpet, and faced him, skin color hazed by his butler's shadow over him in the dim light. The small amount of light that came only thanks to the window slithered around the black fabric, but with Sebastian being much taller, and much wider than Ciel, no light reached his slender frame. Instead, it gave the butler a more menacing look, and his, that of a cornered prey.

Ciel did not heed though, nor was he cornered. He stepped forward again, unaffected by the sour look he was given in response.

"You still have a chance right? You said that Sutcliff was going to pick one of you two, right?" Sebastian, showing some confusion, merely nodded again.

Really, sometimes giving advice to someone unwilling to take it was hard.

Slightly frustrated by the height difference, the young earl snatched a black tie with one hand and pulled it towards himself. With that, Sebastian could only bend down to comply, though he was still angry, and one small, free hand came at him, slapping a pale cheek harshly.

The action, unexpected as it was, caught the demon off-guard. For a human, and for a human such as Ciel, the strength behind the smack was abnormally great; it left him frozen in his spot, with a reddened cheek, unsure of how to take the meaning behind the sudden strike. His cheek stung bitterly enough to cause a dull ache where his recent bloody wound dwelled, though perhaps it was because his neck twisted a bit too fast, and now the healing muscles screamed in protest.

Ciel only gave him a formidable look.

"Then stop it this instant! You can fight about it with that red menace after everything's said and done, whether you come out the victor or not! Be confident! That Sutcliff loves you and he tells me too often already; in fact, I'm positive that he annoys me with it just because we are contracted and he complains that I keep you all to myself, or something. But right now, you are my butler, and a Phantomhive butler performs his tasks smoothly and flawlessly."

Ciel took a break from all of his talking, rather winded. He was starting to remember that goofy grin that spoke volumes upon _volumes_ of how 'simply wonderful' Sebastian was and how the redhead would like it more if he hurried up and achieved his revenge or, as it was so politely phrased, 'kick the bucket already'. It was a strange thing to be remembering now, but it was what made the thirteen-year old think that Grell was genuinely in love with his butler.

Maybe part of it was because he didn't know about adult affairs, but he couldn't understand why Sebastian had to be so pessimistic.

"Besides," Ciel began again in a meek voice, releasing the tie and regaining his previous respectful position, "Being sad doesn't fit you."

Sebastian blamed it on his current chaotic blur of feelings but, he felt touched that his master was actually trying to cheer him up. Although he was sure the boy would deny it if he was questioned about it.

It could have been that he was just unhappy with his butler's sudden incompetence, or that he was genuinely worried about the demon's peculiar mood. In spite of what could have been the reason, Sebastian pulled one of his smirks, both for comfort to the young earl and for his current amusement with his master's interesting, and unpredictable ways. Suddenly, he didn't feel so bad.

"Hey…Se-Sebastian! You're bleeding!" At the words, Sebastian looked down where the slight sting in his shoulder was coming from and saw that, yes, he was bleeding, quite a lot. In all his ramblings, he forgot to change the shirt, washed out from the rain, and to patch the cut up. The abrupt twist of his neck before seemed to have opened the wound.

"Ah, I forgot about that."

* * *

><p>After finally being left completely alone in his home, the first thing Grell did was collapse on the small sofa in his living room, suddenly too tired to walk. He aimlessly traced the edges of the walls with his eyes, watching the shift from light reds to dark reds to textured reds, all the red colors in this room alone.<p>

They did nothing; all those beautiful reds did nothing to make him feel better, or even just stop his crying.

William wanted to forget him. He wanted to forget ever loving him, all of his troublemaking ways. He probably even wished that he never even _met_ him.

He couldn't bear to think what he did to Sebastian. Those eyes had done enough. They showed him what he needed to know.

Crying there, alone, puffy green eyes kept searching around the room for more shades of red. It was one of the things that calmed him down when he felt so lonely. But it wasn't working.

Then a stain, one he failed to notice before, appeared on the scarlet pillow his head was resting on.

Inspecting it closer, he saw it was just his current mascara ruining the cotton.

But…it looked like a bushy tree. Upside down.

It looked…familiar.

Why…a tree? Why is that shape familiar…?

And then he remembered.

An oak tree, with a dark-haired woman lying under it…and she had…a black, frilly dress, a very pretty dress…

It was mother.

It was a memory, a different one from before, when he remembered the doll. But then someone came up next to her, someone small with…fuzzy red…hair?

_Is that…me?_

It was strange, looking at that memory in his head almost like…a cinematic record.

That memory. It started playing over and over, through his head. Over and over…

_I remember…when I was human, there was a little piece of heaven in my childhood. My mother would be lying in a grassy field with a beautiful dress near an oak tree, while my father carried me in his strong arms to her. She always made me smile, just thinking about her, even when I could only remember that much. Her and her beautiful blue eyes._

_Then father would suddenly stop and lift me up even higher. I was small, so I couldn't understand; my world was filled with toys and colors, looking up at people, never down._

_Being lifted up so high was new, exciting and, I admit, a little frightening._

_Everything looked so amazing and far away, I wondered for a second if that was how adults felt, because they certainly were much taller than me._

_But then he tossed me up and I would fly up really fast, so high it was scary. And I'd look down at him the whole time with something like a whimper sounding out of me, wide-eyed and frozen. I could never remember his face, but he raised me so high so quickly, I couldn't think about it. Father felt so distant, and he kept getting farther away from me, from my tiny, pudgy hands that tried to grab him._

_I didn't like that feeling, but even worse was what came next._

_I'd start falling…falling, falling, falling so _fast_! I thought I was going to keep falling and land on the ground, it terrified me so much! Was I going to get hurt, a scrape, a bruise? Or something I don't know yet that's even worse?_

_The one thing I could feel within every fiber of my being was betrayal. Why did father do that! Why didhedo that! I don't _like it_, I_don't likeit**idon't**_—_

_The fear stopped and scrambled away when he caught me like a little weightless bundle, and he tossed me right back up without a beat to pause. It was still so scary, but now it was less than before, because he caught me once, so I knew he would again. He would catch me again I wouldn't get hurt!_

'He's going to catch me'_, I'd think hopefully, and he did, every time. There was a giggle fluttering out of me, like butterflies. I must have been as light as a feather, and he kept looking at me, only me. He'd never let me get hurt. Father would toss me up again and again until it felt fun, and I would laugh at the tickly breeze going around me. But I knew that I only laughed because father always looked at me as I bounced on his wide hands. I was the only thing on his mind when he lifted me to the skies, and it made me so happy. It was so scary at first, but now it was fun. It was fun!_

That's exactly how I feel right now.

Only no one's caught me yet. There's no fun until you've been caught, or when you _know_ you'll be caught.

I feel like the two dearest people in my life just tossed me up in the air with all their strength, so high I was frozen with growing fear, and they want me to shout for one of them to catch me, but only one. And I have to choose. I need to, I must. I can't hesitate or I'll keep falling until I hit that hard ground, cold and unforgiving.

No one would help me up if I did. I'm sure…I would break into a thousand pieces and nothing could ever put me back together. Like a crystal vase.

I don't know what I'd do if I hit that ground, it scares me just thinking about it. But nothing comes out my mouth that's frozen in a parted, silent scream as I fall towards the floor, getting closer. Their warm, safe hands are getting farther and farther away, and that harsh, rough ground keeps getting closer and closer…

I don't think I can just pick one. What, do they think that it's really so _easy_? Do they think that I'd want to be thrown up in the air and just yell their name to catch me?

It _should_ be easy to pick, but it's not. It's never that easy.

Not when you're too afraid of falling to speak. When your throat feels like a cat used it mercilessly as a scratching post and speaking will burn more, aching and stinging with an invisible fire. When there's a throbbing jab in your heart, hammering deep with every heartbeat, and you could swear your ribcage was getting smaller and smaller as you take another breath. Nothing, nothing in you wills you to speak. Nothing _wants_ you to speak. Your own body plays against you.

As a child, the most terrifying thing I could ever imagine was that those strong hands tossing me up would miss my little body and I would land so painfully on the ground. That father would look away for just one second, just one second…and that second was enough to crush my world. My very small, precious world.

Now, I'm afraid that those same arms attached to someone else even more important to me, will just throw me up into the air and pull back, watch me fall, crumple down. But…I'm more afraid that if I reach for one arm, for one of them, the other will never pat my head, or hold my hand, or even burn me with the sweet hiss of a smack. That the sweet, cool lick of a stare or a warm caress would turn to smoke, to shambles, like it never existed. Like it was never meant for me to own. To have. To **feel**.

I would give up everything, good and bad. All that would be left of my small world is…

A broken half.

_Torn in two, because you made me. You'd take that chipped half from my shaking hands, hot with tears, and throw it in a fire._

_Gone._

_Forever._

"Forever…"

The sound of his own voice startled him. He opened his eyes and wondered when he had closed them. They felt scratchy and bloated. His eyes were sure to be bloodshot. Had he fallen asleep thinking about that memory—

_What was it again?_

All he could recall now was his mother, sitting under the oak tree.

It felt like something was…missing. Something important.

The living room, small like everyone else's, looked dark and rather frightening reflected with only a half-shut window he didn't bother to ever close. With some aching strength, Grell lifted himself from the sofa and struggled to his bed, just as red as everything he owned.

Finally collapsing on it, sleep generously came fast, but with everything currently running through his head, Grell was sure to get little sleep. Regardless of possible insomnia, not only was the week to come vexing him, but he felt fairly troubled about his memories, and why he couldn't remember.

It was strange, that he could recall his mother so easily, but that was it. Only her, nothing more.

Just that surreal, warm presence.

* * *

><p><em>NA: Did I write too much? Yes, yes I did. Too many portrayed emotions (sad, happy, angry, guilt, angst, the whole shebang!) …and words. So, many…words… You don't know how many times I rewrote and rewrote and rewrote. I hope this was worth waiting a month for!_

_P.S. I'm aware some derogatory terms don't fit the era, but really, would you catch 19th century slang? I know I wouldn't. Besides that, did anyone else want to punch Banter? Because I wanted to punch this OC right out of my computer. Makes me feel like I bullied Grell__ ;_; _


	11. Living in Silence

_A/N: Here we are, very late…but here! I need to extend the time it takes to update the story…I'm suddenly ten times busier! (Plus distractions.) How troublesome… ;A;_

_And to *Amber Star, since I couldn't answer you anything on account of you being a guest, thank you for your wonderful reviews on the last two chapters! And I didn't mind the length of them at all, in fact, I enjoyed them. _

_Chapter's pretty long, yay~!_

* * *

><p>"Would you look at that, a paper fort!"<p>

A short, bouncy clump of blond hair stuck out as it usually did with a curl, a signature look that added a carefree appearance to an already young-looking, boyish face, a face well known in the General Affairs department for frequent visits. The lady-killer had whistled at the impressive, telltale stack of files hiding his red bundle of a friend.

He was also surprised to find said friend sorting out forms, files and reports in one of the Resource department's filing rooms. Quite the unexpected place.

The voiced observation echoed slightly in the large room, which caught the sorter's attention. One thin neck curved and red locks opened way to show a questioning glance at the spirited Ronald leaning against the door.

"Paper fort? If anything it's a paper _front_," Grell corrected with a sculpted eyebrow high in the air, as if stating an obvious fact. "Forts are stronger, Ronnie; this 'fort' would easily tumble down if tipped with just a light tug."

Ronald shrugged his shoulders at the words, "Sorry, I didn't think you would find my joke unfit."

"It's not that it's wrong, my boy," Grell took some forms from God-knows-what-century-ago and ordered them neatly on top of the growing stacks surrounding him, "I'm just a bit crabby with having to sort all this out."

The blond took a wary step into the room and leaned against the wall, watching as his senior troublemaker continued his work. '_My boy'?_ He thought, with a tilt of his head, _He rarely calls me that; must be this bland room draining all the eccentric out of him, his hair even looks pasty,_ "Really? You got demoted again or something?"

"No, not really. Just pulled a nerve on our dear boss."

One paper fluttered from the file in his hands and zigzagged its way down when he faced Ronald's direction. When he noticed, Grell resisted the urge to groan as he went to pick it up. _Too many papers_. _Too many damned papers._

"Did you hit on William-sempai and ended up spilling coffee on tons of reports…again?" Ronald daringly asked, knowing that lighthearted joking was welcomed, with the right tone. Although, coffee mishaps _have_ happened before, twice actually.

But Grell only shook his head with a long sigh as he circled out of the paper trap he made, not happy with remembering why he was there. "Worse, Ronald," he eventually answered. "Worse."

Finding himself quite trapped in a hoard of papers, the vexed reaper leaped and left the dozens of stacks below him –a third of the papers in the room–, and landed quietly in front of large filing cabinets, large enough to cover the entire wall, where eventually most of the papers would go. He ended up landing in front of a gray one with big, bold capital letters reading _ERD Sa_–_Sh, ERD Sh_–_So,_ and so on with each drawer.

If the reaper remembered correctly, that was where all of the employed reapers' data was archived, organized by surname.

_Interesting blackmail for the future, _Grell jokingly thought. _But really, I should be the _last_ person allowed in a room filled with private information._

Ronald turned again, this time towards the door, a sign that meant he was leaving, "Well, I don't wanna know, I was just looking for you to see if you wanted to have some lunch with me." He suddenly beamed a bright lopsided smile and crossed his arms behind his head casually, "The girls are inviting."

Truthfully, Ronald was very worried about the redhead and wanted to bring him out of the closed space for some fresh air and food. Earlier in the morning, he had seen how droopy and unhappy Grell had been when he jogged merrily to greet the usually-fervent red shinigami, and now the blond felt like some well-needed lunch would cheer them both up a little.

Ronald was still trying to put together what he had seen in the hallway a few weeks ago, between him and their supervisor, William. But something kept telling him that Grell's business was none of his business when it came to their cold senior. He had heard from others about the odd, long-term acquaintance between them, some bumps and turns with their friendship, if it could be called that, but what he had seen that day when his ears perked up at a running newbie and curiosity was too tempting to pass, well, he didn't know _what_ to call it.

It was somehow scary to think that William actually had a nice side.

It was even scarier to think he was being nice to _Grell_, of all people…then again…it made the most sense. Maybe it just took a century to get to see the guy's non-_flammable_ side.

_Yeah, and _maybe_ I'll rat out a rave to the police._

"No, I want to finish this quickly. I'll eat lunch later," Grell waved off at the younger man, grabbing the top of a stack and proceeding to dump it–_neatly_–in the right drawer.

He had already alphabetized the stack, now he just needed to put it in the cabinets and order the rest of the papers. It was tedious work, and it _killed_ him to do it, mostly because anyone below his rank could do it, but some of it was fun. Not only were there some lively and juicy soul reports in there, but all of the information written and received from every reaper around. It _was _one of Resources' rooms, after all.

Once he heard the pitter-patter of shined oxford shoe soles on marble fading away, he breathed with tired eyes. Grell actually didn't eat breakfast in the morning, not feeling particularly hungry, or like eating, but now that noon passed his stomach complained from the lack of fuel in his system.

_Day one of the most miserable week of my life…and I'm already skipping meals…_

With his body working on overdrive, leather gloves methodically ordered the blue files with the blue files and the yellow files with the yellow files, later alphabetizing. Those colors were named, but the covers were so faded, everything looked gray. The only distinction was the deeper shade being blue.

As he sorted out the 'color' files askew in a table, his mind wandered to this morning's dispute, when he went to William's door especially early.

He had gotten out of bed just ten minutes past four in the morning, and finding it impossible to catch a little bit more of rest, Grell decided to get ready for work, remarkably early for him. Some of that hadn't surprised the sleepless reaper, since he awoke a couple of times during the night thanks to the dream he would immediately forget once he was fully conscious.

It bothered him, but it couldn't be helped.

After applying extra make-up to hide dark circles and the paleness product of skipping the most essential meal of the day coupled with insomnia, he waited with some hope in front of William's door for twenty-some minutes before almost giving the man a heart attack. Being right on someone's doorstep before dawn did that to people.

Grell had lost some of his confidence recalling the previous day and how he was supposed to be 'just another co-worker', which hurt to do, but he still tried to make his displeasure known about his place in the ordeal, about the week, about everything.

One look at William stole his voice.

Grell could tell the man couldn't sleep either, that he had so many things to say, but couldn't. It was reserved, expertly hidden like the senior was prone to do, but Grell could read him this time. The soft, almost grieving glint behind slanted eyes gave Grell something to think about. And so did the immediate order to organize the room he was currently in.

Alongside his hunger, the starving shinigami continued his work, knowing that it wasn't punishment, but a way to keep them from seeing each other, and most likely the first of many.

It was heart-wrecking madness in his personal opinion, making a deal to give him a week to himself and his thoughts when they lived so close together, but men tended to make promises they couldn't keep. At least, that's what he learned from down-to-earth romance novels.

Eventually, William will crack, and they'll yell really loud in a fight, like they always do when he does something 'stupid'. There will be shoving and fake threats, and probably someone crying too, from his part, but then there will be some _I'm sorry_'s and _it's okay_'s, and he hopes that, unlike before, many long hugs, and maybe even kissing.

But maybe that _won't_ happen. Maybe William would stay adamant, keeping his emotions hidden under a tomb like always, and Grell would have to be independent for once.

'Independent' had a different definition in his vocabulary.

Yes, he was an independent adult already, grown and capable of taking care of himself quite alright. But he could never live without someone else's guidance, without acceptance, without a friend. It was that security that kept him who he was; that was the reason he never turned into another lifeless 'drone', how he kept that unique fire in his soul, unlike most of the other reapers who already fell to the spell of uniformity. They never questioned things, they only followed. No one tries to be an individual anymore, only become part of the whole.

Grell absolutely _abhorred_ that; it was blindness, it was a poison. It was the reason, he thought, why he felt that he could never fit in. Because he never _wanted_ to.

The only thing keeping his sanity together is that dependency, that confidence that even when he does something wrong, if he breaks down into pieces, someone will catch him, put him back together, lend a hand, or just _be there._

He was never alone, and because of that, he was always himself; he would always _be_ himself. A strange sort of dependent singularity, relying on someone while leading his own path.

To be truly independent, for him, would be the same as removing himself from everyone else. To let himself flow with the current and land wherever it chooses.

To be alone.

Hands kept searching the table for more unruly files but they were all gone, already placed in a stack, at least all the color ones. A long sigh escaped Grell, brought back from his daydreaming.

William had always been the bandage that covers, binds and cleanses the wounds. In a way, he was the conscience he never had, a busybody trying to stir him in the 'right' direction.

Then, a new thought trekked in. Grell had yet to begin his given task, to 'judge' his lovers, and now that he was all alone in a secluded room, he might as well start. So he stopped his work, leaned against the table and took a deep breath, clearing his mind.

Spears, what an adequate name.

A man that can pierce and unhand any target one-hundred yards away so easily, and give a stare that freezes hell over. Metaphorically of course.

They truly were polar opposites; one would question just what could ever bring them together. A little voice peeped _'sometimes opposites attract, no?'_ and a little chuckle echoed in the blank, ink-saturated room.

Certainly, in science, opposites attract. The closer North comes to South, the stronger the pull becomes in an invisible attraction until they snap together, and once they're together, it's rather difficult to separate them without force. Thinking more about William, Grell could reason maybe that was how it worked all this time. Slowly, rather painstakingly slow, they became closer inch by inch, until suddenly, without warning, they found themselves inseparable. Or rather, William found himself unable to escape him.

The thought came as a little funny to the red beauty, to be a magnet. But whether he was the north or the south, it didn't matter. The magnets came together in the end, the result was the same.

Then, maybe it wasn't like science, but like a hunt. A well-planned hunt.

As the years passed, Grell dug silently, cautiously, burrowing a hole, a trap, to catch the 'rabbit' that kept escaping his grasp. Sometimes the prey was there, perfect for the catch, but in a single second he would jump away and find a safe place to hide. If he continued to hunt after it, would the rabbit tire and let himself be caught, or would the rabbit keep going and the hunter must then find a new way to catch him every time? Would the willful hunter tire?

Perhaps it depended on 'who gave up'.

If the hunter gave up, how would he ever catch the stealthy hare? Maybe the prey was waiting to be caught the whole time. Maybe he would be disappointed in his hunter's lack of willpower. Maybe it was all a game, and now, there was no spark to continue running. That is, if you say that the rabbit reasons like a human.

A quick throbbing in the left side of his gut warned Grell that long analogies are a bad thing on an empty stomach. Another sigh later and Grell sat down on the floor, deeming it more comfortable than a raggedy old chair. _Besides_, he began to think, _It's because of my constant pestering that I know William more than myself. _

_Sometimes. It's not like I can read his mind, or his face for that matter. Just the little things…and the bigger things too. And…I know he's not mad at me anymore, I just don't know _what_ he's feeling right now. I wish I could read him this time!_

Without something to support his back as he slumped, Grell decided that the table's legs were enough. Once he was somewhat comfortably positioned, legs extended out on the floor, the crimson reaper tossed his distinguished red locks over one shoulder. The bloody color clouding his line of vision reminded him of his other choice.

Sebastian Michaelis, a bastardized pseudonym most adorably given by the little master.

What was his real name? He could answer to many calls, but quite possibly even the demon forgot his real name. For Grell, he would always be just 'Sebastian'.

A pile of cream-colored papers stood out by the corner of one eye, but Grell ignored it. He returned to the start his discourse on the crow, but then, something completely unsettling came into realization.

Grell, in the middle of piecing together what he could of their shared time, saw that he did not know much about the meticulous butler except for the fact that he liked cats, souls and…perfection.

_Why is it that…after all this time, I don't know that much about him? Would he also have this problem?_

He could say many things about the demon. He could describe him like the moon, waxing and waning like the night they first fought, or how he acts rather childish, teasing and playing games by his rules, or how his smiles are all different, giving off little clues about what he was actually thinking. He could recite his extensive knowledge of demonology, even more so now thanks to Sebastian. He could tell of the times they had spent together, how the disgust turned to affection, and how rough pushes meant to keep away turned into ones that were only meant to annoy. He could even recount minute by minute how they spent their dates, the times they accidentally came across each other while they were both on duty, and _that_ was how he realized.

It was only once a _month_.

Put together, they haven't spent that much time together at all.

_Everything I know, Ciel Phantom_brat_ could easily know too, _he thought. Although, certainly _he_ was the one who was closest to Sebastian, and not _Ciel_, there were so many things Grell did not know, never asked, and never had the chance to think of. There were so many things they had yet to do, yet to say, yet to experience.

It was not that he was questioning his love, but instead, he was questioning, _how_ would he decide between the two men, if the balance was so disproportionate?

The thought bothered him for the rest of the day, even when he finished filing everything near the end of the day's shift. Even when he found William's personal file, he didn't open it.

_I don't even know what's his favorite color… Would that little detail matter anyway?_

* * *

><p>Once lunch was ready, the cart was loaded with the promised meals and taken to the master's study, where he seemed to be spending more time with each passing day.<p>

Inside the closed room, twin white gloves maneuvered the covered plates over to the desk, where one of the two raised the polished, silver cover and brought to light a wonderfully presented _Pot-au-feu _with an extra helping of celery_,_ since the earl needed his meat _and_ vegetables.

Reluctantly, Ciel gave a huff and started the meal, leaving most part of the celery. _God_ that was awful. Sebastian allowed it this time, considering that he ate more of it than the previous times, and brought the second, much more loved, covered plate: _dessert_.

Ciel hid it well, but the butler could sense how the boy was looking forward to another excellent, sweet and savory confection quite easily. His master was still a child after all, no matter how many times he denied it. The cap was lifted, and an enchanting slice of chocolate _ganache_ cake, topped with half a strawberry decorating the top and a tasteful whipped cream flower at its left side, made its presence known. Some of the puffed white flower was coated elegantly with a bright red syrup, a fruity scent lingering from it.

Ciel merely stared at it for a good ten seconds.

"Sebastian," the boy simply called, closing his one visible eye with a frown. His butler bowed slightly to reach eye level with his demanding master, one eyebrow raised high, wondering.

"What is wrong, my lord?" He smoothly sounds, tilting his head to the side in mock-innocence. Though he truthfully didn't understand what could have been wrong about the dessert; they were always welcomed.

"You've been thinking again, haven't you?" was what Ciel asked, fork in hand and lightly poking the strawberry on the top, eye open once again.

Sebastian lowered his questioning brow and scrunched both together in confusion. "What makes you ask such, my lord?"

This time, the Phantomhive heir turned his soft stare from the plate to the demon, not angry or annoyed, but also showing no positive emotion with his next statement. "Because you know I don't like strawberries with this whipped cream."

The raven-haired servant formed a small 'o' with his mouth, realization settling.

He had been distracted again when his sights landed on a fresh batch of strawberries Mey-Rin brought back from the market along with other groceries, all thankfully safe in the bags and baskets and nothing spilled throughout the floor. Somehow, that led to remembering that Grell liked strawberries and he unconsciously made the treat with whipped cream, completely forgetting as he coated it with a light strawberry syrup that the young master didn't like it that way, but _Grell_ did. Quite the big mistake on his part.

For once, Ciel didn't hold the blunder against the demon, or should he add, _for now_. He would mention it again sometime in the future for his own benefit and amusement, since such chances came as rare as a man in labor, and it seemed that this week would be filled with mother nature's impossible birthing miracle with how many times Sebastian had been distracted enough to do something _wrong_, which, since yesterday, was a total of four.

His 'perfect' butler was thinking too much and much too often, and even though it was most definitely because Sebastian was experiencing something he had never experienced before, which the dignified earl would diagnose as lonely-heartache syndrome, also called _angst_.

Even though the young heir took the initiative and offered advice to the aggravating demon, the next day, in other words this morning, he was back to his depressed, self-loathing new self, though he could pay acute attention to his surroundings now. Even though he told the dark being, and once again when he saw the fallen mood, that there was no questioning the red reaper's love, that he should be cocky and confident in himself like he usually was, Sebastian seemed to have more and more doubt in that little fact.

Ciel couldn't understand. Why was it so difficult to believe? Why couldn't Sebastian go back to showing his unattached, unaffected image, the one that didn't care about anything? But then if he did that, it would be meaningless regarding Grell, wouldn't it?

But _why_? He watched rather carefully the way the demon became infatuated, later courting and then bordered on obsession. It seemed beyond the realms of possibility then, but now, it was odd to think that his butler, a cruel, malicious demon, could genuinely care about someone besides himself, and, Ciel would never admit it, but it scared him slightly.

Was this what happened to those who fall in love? Do they become weak, unsure, lost between logic and instinct?

Would he dare to find out?

The wooden, ornate clock hung by one of the walls ticked by in the silence, as the mansion's owner decided to pick and prod with the fork's prongs at the ganache before proceeding to eat it, leaving the part that he mentioned was not of his tastes behind.

Shifting to take the plates to the kitchen, Sebastian lifted the fine china along with the other towards the wheeled tray and served Darjeeling tea, which his master enjoyed.

"Today, I will be serving fresh Darjeeling black tea, brewed with loose leaves and—"

"Stop," Ciel interrupted in a resonant voice in an order, tasting afterwards the aromatic tea.

Obediently, and without choice, scarlet irises blinked gradually in time with the ticking clock, waiting for his master to speak.

He sighed inward, the soothing tea slipping into his gut with a delicious aftertaste. His butler's skills would never falter, there was no questioning that.

"Tell me, how do you love?"

Another blinking session ensued.

"I beg your pardon, master?" He paused as he watched the boy shift in the plump chair.

"I said," Ciel took another sip of the warm tea, emptying it in the process, and continued his speech, "How do you love? How do you _think_ you love?"

The demon took the question with a slight surprise. Was Ciel suggesting how it was _possible _for him to love? Or…could he—

"You want to know how it feels like?" He saw the young earl nod in agreement, and Sebastian let a small smirk play on his lips.

"If you want to know the truth, my lord, I have not a clue. I have lived a long time, long enough to forget when I came into existence, and through the ages, I have learned that if I wish to continue to exist without a worry for my life, my strength and my mind must be unsurpassable. I suppose this is the reason why I accept nothing but the best results, my lord. Nothing 'touches' me, if you will. If it does, I become attached, distracted. And you know what happens to those who lose their path.

"I did not wish to have this…handicap, let's call it. Emotions are unnecessary, and a waste. If I have time to think about trivial things, I am not busy enough." Ciel glanced questioningly at his butler with his one eye. Sebastian understood what he was confused with.

"Young master, I say these things, but every being has a flaw. A great, universal flaw that I have come to realize in the time of our contract. Such a thing is inevitable, and I must admit that it has come to pass over me."

Ciel's eyebrows rose from their place, one hidden under his silken black patch, holding their contract. A universal flaw? "And what is this 'flaw'?"

Knowing that the boy had infinite curiosity in this state, he gave the requested answer quietly, as if it was a taboo to speak of it.

"Living beings need companionship," but he saw that the message didn't reach Ciel, and sighed lowly. "Perhaps I should phrase it differently. My lord, what do you think of the servants?"

Ciel coughed awkwardly into his right fist, caught off-guard by the question, and took that time to think. "W-well…they're horrible at their jobs, but they do a good job at protecting the mansion and myself from danger."

And it was true, the three-man team failed in epic proportions with their mundane jobs; even Ciel had to admit their exaggerated clumsiness cost him a pretty penny. But they were excellent at their true task, bodyguards, which was all that mattered. "They are capable of much more," the young master added, pleased to remember that Bardroy, Finnian and Mey-Rin were the best of the best, and having them around wasn't so bad.

"Yes, but what if you never asked of me to bring worthy guards?"

The young noble stopped then, analyzing where the butler was going, "Then I would have never met them."

Sebastian's smirk grew a tad bit wider with his master's wariness. "That is right, and how would the mansion seem now?"

"…Quiet," Ciel spoke as softly as a whisper, yet brimming with authority. He wouldn't stand to live in such a desolate place that used to be his home, with a demon following him like a shadow. Thinking about it, Ciel thought that maybe the reason he got bodyguards wasn't because he wasn't safe. Contracted to a demon made him practically untouchable, except for the few times he got caught by sheer luck or for Sebastian's entertainment.

He got other servants…to fill the silence. Living in an empty mansion, ghosts of his past would haunt him everywhere he went. He would have eventually lost his sanity. Living with others kept his mind busy, away from the past, and from the pit that forever would lay in his chest thinking about his dear deceased parents.

'Keep his mind busy'? He rethought that little phrase.

_I am not busy enough_, was what Sebastian had said not five minutes ago. Was there a deeper meaning to that then? He could not answer for his butler began to speak again.

"Yes, quiet. Silence is impossible to bear, isn't it? But it isn't the silence that is troublesome, but what comes before it."

An azure eye trailed on the demon, hanging by every word. Before he could ask what it was that Sebastian meant, the last puzzle piece clicked together with the rest, and he understood completely.

"Solitude, you mean?" Sebastian nodded again, pleased to know that his master was as sharp as ever.

"Yes, solitude. When a human is alone, silence overcomes the senses, and if the silence exists for far too long, it is overbearing for the fragile mind." Sebastian paused, ordering everything in his head in a way that his human master would easily interpret.

"Humans exist with noise, change; chaos. It is a part of them. They could go mad at any time living without it, and they usually do. It is a natural weakness. And what I mean to say by that is, that without someone there, some change, a constant flutter, living beings can't function. But more than change, they need another living, breathing being by their side. Although, for humans it is necessary from the beginning, for how could they live without their mother to nurture them? What is a child without a parent to teach it how to live?

"With an immortal creature like myself, the case is different. Especially for demons. We can fend for ourselves, and are usually left to, just after birth. We do not require another's assistance in our lives, except for humans. We need food, don't we?

"My lord, perhaps from the beginning it has been in my nature to be isolate, unchanging. To separate myself from the world and live only for myself, for survival. But solitude is something that affects everything that has a sense of survival. Animals follow it too. They could live in packs, or hunt alone, but they always return to find their own kin, or other kinds simply for means of surviving. Parasites, communities, prey and predator. They distract themselves from becoming alone. And even when most of them do not know why, they still follow that instinct. I know now, after living for so long in this human environment, that I have this too. This need to attach myself to something else that would serve for company. And it is stronger than the need to occupy every second of my time, and keep from growing stagnant."

After his long speech, Sebastian watched his master blink in acknowledgment. He was still listening; he thought the boy had been bored to bones. Maybe it was interesting to him, how he spoke of natural instinct so…naturally.

"Now, I haven't answered your question yet, have I? I haven't told you how it is that I feel. It doesn't sound like what most people describe love, because what I am describing isn't it, but rather, what would initiate the action. If I were to tell you, young master, that watching humans socialize and being asked to partake by your orders had begun to open this train of reasoning, you would understand.

"Humans and demons are incompatible. No matter how much I would want to allow myself to grow closer to anyone, I couldn't to a human. They are fickle, ever-changing. And so very weak. You know that from the beginning, I found Grell a disgusting pest," Sebastian suddenly brought, jumping straight to the redheaded shinigami.

Ciel nodded with a pause, waiting for his butler to continue. "That is how I would react to anything that wished for my tact, and any of my kind, really. I would not willfully give it. And for a long time, I did not allow it to him and his persistent ways. And why would I? It is 'unnecessary' as I said before."

Ciel watched as the demon lowered his gaze, changing his tone to something…different. He couldn't put his finger on what it was, but he had never heard it before from the eloquent demon.

"I used to think this way. And my logic then began to fail me, because of Grell."

Sebastian turned his head to the side with a wrung expression, as if trying to hide something that wasn't there. No matter how many times he had thought about it during the night, or the many times that came before, it still didn't make sense. He didn't understand why Grell would willingly come to him, and without an enchantment, seduction or one of his demonic pulls.

It was so strange to him, thinking that there could be someone capable of feeling so much. Knowing that from Grell, that he was unchained, untainted, that his will was his own…was that what made his barriers fall?

Knowing that the reaper expected nothing in return, but still aspired for the unattainable, it shed something in him, a layer that he didn't know he had. Something he didn't know he felt.

He was lonely.

It had been so long since he felt warmth. Had he ever even felt it before?

Sebastian saw, for the first time, that letting himself be pulled along was exactly what he wanted. He lived for so long just for the sake of living; he watched, analyzed, planned for so long, without diving into his own mind; isolated himself for so long that being given so much attention…it was something utterly, and fascinatingly new. Perhaps, just this once, _he _was the one who was enraptured, caught in a spell.

And Grell would be his succubus, his enchantress. And what a succubus he would make…

How had it become that way? How did it change so quickly? When did he lay down his walls? Was it the dignifying comments? The flaunting? The love? It all happened so quickly, he felt lost. Time had betrayed his senses.

"All I can give you as my answer is that, Grell Sutcliff, though a reaper, may be the only one capable of doing this to me. Young master, I can't tell you _how_ I feel, I can only tell you why. I feel because I am loved. How did this feeling start? I do not know. Why do I love? I do not know either. I just do," he sighed at the ambiguity of it all, absentmindedly shaking his head, some black locks waving over his face, "Does that make sense to you?"

Ciel, given more than enough of a speech, anecdote and opinion than needed, merely nodded in approval, "It makes enough."

_You love because you can, it is just unfortunate that you cannot understand yourself that._ Ciel pressed against the cushioned seat, _Being alone, feeling solitude…Grell had taken that away from you. _

_When you 'think', you 'realize'. And when you 'realize', you begin to 'want'. _

"But there's something that's been bothering me since dawn," Sebastian rather hastily added, "The thought webbed itself so suddenly, it caught me off-guard. You see, I may have given Grell the time to put two and two together on his own, but… You see, if I think about it carefully, Grell and I have been 'together' since this past winter, but in 'relationship' terms, we've only seen each other on dates, once a month.

"Technically, I've only dated Grell for a little more than a week. At most, two, counting morning and evening hours. Outside of this, I barely even know Grell. I know what a reaper is. I can understand him, what he hates, what he likes, but it only goes that far," the raven butler rushed out, with a bit of a muted gasp to catch wind.

"From this, I can generally say that I don't know anything about him, and neither does he."

At this, the young earl tilted his head in confusion. "Isn't that unfair to you then?" Ciel finally spoke, "Either way, you would end up with the short end of the stick."

Knowing the rules of the 'game', as he liked to put it, Ciel understood from his butler's words that it was up to Grell who he wanted to be with, or stay undecided. Personally, this did not interest him, nor did he want to be involved in such love affairs. The whole ordeal seemed ridiculous to him. Why let the man choose separately when they all could act like the aged men they were and be mature about the situation?

As a human, and a young one at the crowning age of thirteen, it was not past him to know that most of the time instinct and emotion won over reason.

Maybe being immortal meant that growing up took longer, but, wasn't Sebastian centuries old? And what about Grell, or the other reaper, William, was it? Was he, a human 'child', the only one with a logical mind? Or was there a reason why in these cases people forgot their ability to speak rationally?

But, perhaps he was just a naïve boy. Ciel didn't think himself as such. He was sure that his inhuman guests and followers were just stubborn. They were all moving so wildly, selfish in the end.

But, he was not involved. This time, he would observe and determine whether his theories were correct, and if the development would indeed breakdown. If they would all go mad with want, need and selfish desire.

Such is human kind's nature, what meant that immortals escaped it too?

To Ciel, this was all useless. Just beating around the bush.

"Yes," he agreed with his master's point, "But…what can I possibly do? It's not as if I can just go to Grell now and rekindle what was never done. I plan to keep my word with this, and I agreed that I would not interfere."

"No, you agreed you wouldn't _see_ each other. You told me. There is still something you can do." From the contours of the boy's face, the demon could catch a glimpse of a smirk.

"You're not suggesting another '_night-brawl'_, as you so kindly put it?"

Ciel madly spluttered at the question, stammering with his words, "N-not that, you dunce!" The earl angrily called, flushing a pink tint just remembering that unfortunate night.

A questioning eyebrow rose, "Then…?"

"Must you be so ethical? You know I expected you, of all people, to use loopholes to your benefit."

At first, Sebastian's confused glance turned into a mildly insulted one. Soon it returned to a soft, calculating look; he was used to the boy's blunt ways. "But I still cannot 'see' Grell. What are you suggesting?"

"Were you always like this?" Ciel chided again, with some –fake– disappointment lazing his words, "Isn't it obvious?"

Sebastian managed to keep his face straight, as it was before, even though he felt that rare urge to backhand the boy. _Sometimes, _he thought, _He is the most arrogant little twit. _"Would you tell me already," was all he gave the Phantomhive, sounding more like a demand than a statement, yet somehow keeping that submissive tone a servant must always present towards his master. How could he do it so skillfully? Years of experience.

Ciel stood from his chair and turned around in his spot, using the angle to stare at the still-cloudy weather outside his window. It smoothed out the horizon like a painting, grayscale colors blending as if crafted by the best of artists, muddled by the saddest of emotions, influencing such a dark world. It was as if the world set itself just for this moment.

"In what way have men and women throughout the ages kept contact, so easily? How did they speak volumes in short verses that flew by the seas, if there were any in between them?"

Sebastian remained silent, knowing that his master's question was only rhetorical. He too stared out at the world beyond the glass, warped into such a grieving field. A part of him couldn't help but wonder just how nature seemed to know everything, before turning slightly to gaze his human contractor's lithe back.

Such a powerful stance, innocent, pure, helpless. How deceitful the human body could be.

Ciel shifted to his left foot, turning a ways to see his butler with his one, azure eye, visible and unmarked.

"With letters, how else?"

* * *

><p>Nightfall was approaching, darkening the Shinigami Realm for its occupants to rest. Inside one reaper's home, claret curtains shimmered while its equally red owner sat at the windowsill's side, gazing out rather lethargic.<p>

Grell had been thinking about his previous revelation, since all he could do know was just that, think. He found it concerning how, technically, he and Sebastian were but strangers to each other. His knowledge of the demon pales in comparison against William's. But it couldn't be a determining fact…could it?

"Just because I don't know much about Sebas-chan… Would that mean anything?" he said aloud to himself, finding comfort from the silence.

_Besides, I don't love Sebastian because of our shared tastes, but because I feel a deep attraction to the man. I…don't mean physically, although it's a plus. I just feel…like I can't part. Like I want to spend more time with him. With _both_ of them._

That invisible pull kept tugging him like a rope on both ends. What was the reason again? Why was it that he loved both William and Sebastian? Why was he willing to crack his chest open for them?

During the night, or what will become of it, Grell contemplated how the day went, and how he blatantly avoided Will.

He still felt a bit shaken up about having to feel like William wanted to forget him, but the more he delved on it, the more ridiculous it seemed.

He knew that Will was very practical, and his intentions probably were only in name of not interfering with Grell's decision. He probably wanted it to be fair, and not use his obvious advantage, being a fellow reaper. Grell then became aware that it meant William respected Sebastian, if just a little, which was an _impossible_ improvement. William didn't just like demons, much less respect them. _In the least_.

William was also trying to understand that Grell felt for the demon, no matter how it hurt. It touched his heart for a moment.

"William really is very considerate," he spoke out again, the sound of his tenor voice in the unlit room lowered to whisper, "I never noticed before. I have to apologize to him once this is all over." _If I can. _

Then, in a shift, the needle of his compass turned south. He started once more with the demon, how he wished that there had been more time spent between them, if this meant that he might possibly never see him again. Grell wasn't sure what was in store for the future. If indeed there would be a match and a victor.

For a second the boisterous reaper felt decorated, and not that little spread warmth of joy. A mere trophy, that wasn't _just_ a trophy. He was allowing himself to be nothing more but a prize.

With a low sigh, Grell frowned.

What was such a wonderful wish in the past felt like heavy lead wrapped around his body. He sympathized with this society's women. They had to keep such an innocent, following appearance. As a lady of action, he couldn't _possibly_ let himself be thought of as incapable, led around by his men. _He _was the one who pulled people out of their hiding place, is he supposed to _follow_ now?

But…he has the choice, from the beginning. He would only be a trophy if he never chose.

"And…what can I do about this heartache?"

Inside the Phantomhive mansion, simultaneously, Sebastian was breaking his head over the wall, almost literally, trying to think of what to write.

He had taken his master's advice–_obligation_–of writing a letter to Grell, if just to quench his need to open his closed doors. He only had one problem though.

It was plain obvious that he wasn't the romantic type, _and_ he never wrote a letter himself before; for others, yes, but not _by_ himself. With exasperation, Sebastian was working through his fourteenth letter. He found the last thirteen inadequate. The raven butler was starting to think that this was impossible, he couldn't write down what he wanted to convey. He started once again, going with:

_To Miss –_he had forced himself on the fourth letter to go with 'miss'– _Grell Sutcliff. It has come to my attention in the last day that, even through days of__—_

Ripping sounds, once again, and the letter was no more. Pieces of torn paper flutter haphazardly over the thin carpet.

_It's useless_. Sebastian hung his head back, the chair holding his lean frame, which, for once was _slump_, and with his face lifted towards the ceiling, he grunted, piqued with irritation. For some reason, the ceiling is the one place his eyes keep focusing on after each failure.

Perhaps that was where writers and poets looked for some kind of inspiration.

He tries to think.

Grell loves the color red. He likes children, but mysteriously except his master. He believes he is a woman, and with how mercurial he is, it's a mental possibility. He likes long dresses, but prefers tight clothing. Heels, never forget heels.

Sunsets are his favorite setting. Going outside without make-up would cause him a heart attack. Bloody meat, his favorite main dish. With lots of sauce. He never said that the idea of raw meat disgusts him slightly, but it's not like _he's_ the one eating it.

His hair smells like strawberries. His nails under the black gloves are trimmed and manicured. He has fake long eyelashes, and he never told Grell that he looked better without them.

So many thoughts, how could he start? He has so much to say, and ask, and _want_.

Finally finding a starting point, Sebastian looks at the ceiling again for help.

William, though, is the only one trying to go to bed, around two hours earlier than usual. He, too, is staring up at the ceiling with nothing but self-loathing.

_I should burn in Hell for a good week, maybe that would make me feel better._

His type of self-loathing is not recommended. Simply because he _can_ go to Hell and burn for a week with a simple portal in the right place.

During the morning, it was a grieving ache. He wanted to disappear from the face of the Earth and give Grell all of the time in the world. Then, passing lunch, all he wanted to do was find someone to hit continuously over the head until all the rage mellowed down. Why was he angry?

Because he wanted to see Grell, but forced himself not to.

Caught between wanting the redhead, pushing the redhead, and killing him, or himself, or each other, a massive migraine settled into William's head, effectively keeping him awake. Not even the tunic he used on the feminine shinigami's splitting headache worked.

With some of the logic still trapped inside his head, William wanted to know why he was showing signs of a bipolar disorder. The only reason he could come up with, one that made passable sense in his state, was that having all of his emotions bottled up, sealed tight not only now, but for years, was slowly cracking the damp. And now that he knows what having someone beside him, sleeping on his bed, sharing warmth feels like, he can't stand it.

He cursed God, angels, and demons alike for having something called love, hope and desire. But through the pained groans of his headache, William knew that in a matter of a few minutes, all he wanted to do was see Grell, hold him and never let go.

Ciel had the most reason of all, in the end. They were all slowly going mad keeping themselves at bay.

But, pushing aside the young man's self-prophecy, the night would not end so quickly.

* * *

><p>A big plain stitch-up doll made its way to Grell's clutches, cotton-filled with big, black button eyes and a rough texture to keep the cotton in human shape. The toy was in the process of being dressed with a little black cape on top of its miniature red clothes, fit to be a tiny noble.<p>

Finding himself a tad depressed, Grell stitched one up quickly with his handicraft kit, which served also as a sewing kit, and named the new toy Todd. Todd was what Grell called a remake, since what he would usually do is make a doll, break it apart when he was bored and make a new one. Every time it happened, he would rename the doll.

Grell would claim this tendency was part of his odd personality, and the eternal boredom that plagued him during the nights. But now, as he stitched yarn on the head as hair, he kept remembering Itsy, the little doll that resembled his mother.

"I wonder if she's doing well in Sebastian's care."

Looking at the finished doll in his hands, Grell wondered for a moment why they always ended up looking the same way: black buttons, red clothes and matching red yarn for hair. He could never forget to put on the little clothes a black cape out of silk. And, they would always be boys.

'I'll try to make a girl next time', he would say, and end up making a boy.

Grell frowned on failing to do a girl. "Sometimes I scare myself…"

Suddenly, there was a knock outside the window he was resting against, and then blinked, multiple times.

_The window?_ he thought, with surprise, _Who could possibly be at my _window_ of all places_?

Because he was assigned an apartment in the console that faced the morning sun, Grell got to have a rather large window, which was personalized over time, in his living room.

This time around, it had been decorated with thick red drapes with a flowery design. It accented the red carpet and couch wonderfully. Although, being a lady of fashionable senses, Grell only had one wall pained a red color, and the rest were a light cream that took a lovely reddish hue during sunrise and sunset. Everything else inside the room took different colors, but nothing that clashed distastefully.

A second knock made Grell jump slightly in his place on the windowsill, and so, with caution, he pulled the drapes back to see just what was outside his room. The new light brightened some of the room, being already lit with a couple of candles –he never _did_ like too much light at night– and the moon shone in its dark domain, blocked partly by the figure outside crouching by his window.

"U-Undertaker?" At the sound of his nickname, the silver-haired maniac grinned joyfully and poked the crystal with one long black nail.

"A-ah, yes, hold on," Grell waved, unlocking the casement windows and stepping back to give space for his unexpected visitor. The robed ex-shinigami nodded once and stepped through, but instead opted for sitting on the windowsill himself, his odd grin never faltering.

"Hello, little red~," the Undertaker sang, fidgeting long fingers playing with part of his sleeve.

The host reaper curtsied awkwardly in his lacy red night robe, which breezed just over mid-thigh. Said clothing didn't faze the elder reaper, nor made Grell uncomfortable to maneuver in front of others. It was only awkward because he never expected someone to come in through the window.

"Oh, now you don't need to be so formal, dear! I'm here strictly as a delivery agent," Undertaker said in between his amused cackle, the only thing unsettling Grell in any way.

"Delivery? Is that why you're at my window in the middle of the night?" He wondered why the old coot had knocked outside his window, besides the obvious question as to why he was in the Shinigami Realm.

He had found out not too long after starting his odd relationship with Sebastian that the Undertaker was a shinigami, a very important one actually. But, he was a deserter, and being involved with him would give him more than enough trouble.

Yet, kindly considering the assistance the silver beauty gave when he had been ambushed by a rogue demon, he promised to pay him back by keeping his location in London a secret from everyone. Besides, whatever the older reaper did and wanted was none of his business as long as he wasn't involved. He knew that, as a kindred spirit, being away from such a boring place was best for such an old bag of crazy bones. Grell cherished the time away he got reaping in the human world.

He personally didn't find the odd Undertaker that bad. And he adoringly called him a lady! He was welcomed by his book.

"Hmm, your home is just as red as your lovely soul I must say," the elder shinigami drawled searching in his right sleeve, "Oh, I'm just here doing a favor for a little black birdy, love. Ah! Here it is!"

Out from the long gray sleeve came a piece of paper, rectangular in shape, and surprisingly pristine in condition.

He took it from the man before exclaiming, "A letter?"

"Correct, little hatchling. And now that my work here is done, I suppose a cup of tea is fine?" He paused, looking at Grell's questioning features. "Oh, alright then. I've dallied enough time, take care!"

One shuffle of dark clothes later with a cloudy flutter of gray, and Undertaker fell from his place to the ground. Hastily, Grell peeked out his window but found no Undertaker, just the ground two stories away.

"Odd bugger," he murmured to himself. But, since the silver nomad of a funeral director risked going back to the Shinigami Realm for just a letter, he let him be. Reporting a deserter wasn't much fun anyway, and he had nothing personal against the Undertaker.

The letter must have been important if he risked being caught, so he decided to inspect it.

"What'd he mean by a black birdy?"

Deeming the letter harmless, he hummed a thoughtful tune when the warm air from outside touched his skin, and felt horribly dry. And so he went to close it before inspecting the closed letter's contents.

Once the room was closed and cool again, Grell kept looking over the envelope, void of address, as he walked over to his velvet-colored lounging couch. Turning it over three times, he finally noticed the wax seal, and found it familiar. He glanced at the seal closely and saw that it was indeed the Phantom_brat_'s family seal.

Curiosity gave him the urge to break it and read just what was inside. And being the type of person to give in to curiosity, his nude fingers happily complied.

Once the envelope rested open, Grell pulled from it quite the written letter, practically filled completely front and back with elegant cursive. _Did the brat need to complain about something so heavily? _Growing tired just _looking_ at the mass of letters, the red laced reaper started with the front, which he could find by the 'Dear'.

Little did he know he was in for a big surprise.

_Dear Grell,_

_I've been thinking over an hour over what I could write to you, and decided that this was the best I have down. _

_This letter, I'm sure, was unexpected, but there are so many things I have yet to say, and haven't said. It's quite unorganized which is giving me a deathly migraine, and I mean no pun with my choice of words, but I don't have experience writing subjectively, just impersonally. We've had months, but only days together, and I'm unhappy about that, discontent and offended even. I suppose that by now you've realized this too. This is my way of making up for all that time that we couldn't enjoy._

Grell stopped, somewhat shocked that Sebastian had written him a letter, but most of all that Sebastian had also come to the same conclusion he had during the day. But because it was Sebastian, it wasn't too much of a shock. Rather, he felt relieved that his demon was as alert and as sharp as always. Although he didn't know that it was currently the opposite.

The home-dressed shinigami quickly returned to the last line he read, eager to read on.

_But before that, are you well? Have you been eating? I remember once, during February, that because of paperwork stress, you had not finished the Swiss steak I cooked for dinner, even though you found it delicious. Don't skip meals, you're thin enough as it is. And you mustn't use a diet as an excuse, you have a great figure. Starving yourself would not be productive._

"My, you sound like a housewife, Bassy!"

_Now, I want to be completely honest. I'm not satisfied with what I've written. I feel like I didn't put in enough. But, formalities aside, I wish to inform you that my master is throwing a tantrum because I am taking too long with this letter, which in turn makes me feel incompetent. Something tells me you would be happy of my master's misfortune, and even more if you are the cause. But I am the perfect butler, so I have to obey orders and hurry._

A light, airy chuckle escaped Grell, proud that the royal brat was unhappy with Sebastian paying his red persona more attention. _Surely the boy was jealous. I know it! _

_I'll start with my dislikes, bluntly, in the following: _

_I hate the sun, angels, sunny weather, and dogs. I __**really**__ hate dogs, they're mongrels. The world would be much better without them. I don't like yellow flowers, the ocean, human food, embezzled clothing, embezzled jewelry, embezzled accessories, ignorant people, innocent people –mostly children–, arrogant people, and overly dramatic people,_—Grell let out an indignant gasp—; _except you, of course. _—"You better!"— _My only exception to humans is if they are delicious, but the only one I've found remotely worthy of my patience is my current contractor. _

_I hate religion, holy grounds, and superstitions. You might find funny how a demon doesn't like superstitions, but for me it's ridiculous to find meaning in common day objects. Symbolic beliefs I'm fine with, I am one after all. And the only odd thing I find putrid for no concrete reason is blonds. I can't quite remember why, perhaps a human or a reaper, even a demon, that got on my nerves long ago, maybe it was from my time in France, but I just __**hate**__ blond hair. My personal curse: living surrounded by blonds, the servants and the lord's fiancée's family included. There should be more brunette British chaps around._

_I suppose that's enough of my hate ranting. My list is quite large, but there _are_ things that I very much enjoy. The first would be cats, but you already knew that. Another is the night. _

_There's something wonderful about it, perhaps it's the stillness or the darkness, but I love nighttime. The moon, a full one, would complete the picture perfectly, whether if it's in the city or in the outskirts. And maybe it's a part of my dark nature, but I love fire. The light, the smell and the charred dirt it leaves. In fact, when everything is set and done, and there is nothing else to do in the day except to wait until morning, I play with candles. Flickering the flame can take hours off of my schedule, amazingly. _

_I love music, piano pieces being my favorite, but I prefer it if someone else plays. Even if I've mastered every instrument, it's much more enjoyable being a spectator, not a player. And, I want to be very honest with this, no matter how much I'm going to hate myself for telling you later, but I have a secret fetish. _

_It's hands. There. Moving on. _

_I could delve deeper into this topic, but I only have one sheet of paper, and I've already used up the front part, so I'll stop here. _

And the paper did not lie. It was the last sentence where Grell was reading. So he flipped the paper with a snicker, amused that Sebastian had a fetish, a _hand_ fetish. "That somehow doesn't surprise me," he said, "Oh dear Sebby. You play with your gloves much too often!"

_Now, I'm not going to lie. I can't conceive a reasonable notion as to why I could possibly say I am in love with you. Saying it, even writing it, troubles me. I'm not familiar with the word, it's meaning, and how it applies to me. But I believe that if I am to call what lies between 'us' something, 'love' is the first word that stems to the surface. And if what I think is correct, I haven't been the best 'lover'. I took our relation like I did everything else: a task. A mundane order, placidly even. _

_Love is supposed to be unpredictable, if you taught me anything. Unplanned, unexpected, and thrilling. For you, I'm sure it was. But _I_ was the one that thought it out to be perfect, rid of any plausible mistake. _

_I sincerely apologize, even if there is nothing worth apologizing for. All is _carpe diem_, 'seize the day', living in the moment, for the moment, and by the moment. That is what you are, and what love should be with you. _

_Everlasting passion. _

_And I miss you. Very much so. There is no passion here, no heartbeat without you around. I know this because I do not have a heart; instead, _you_ are my heart, beating for me, and pumping blood through these black veins of mine._

He stopped there, rereading those lines a myriad of times. Sebastian, speaking that way. Thinking that way, thinking of him as his life-giving source, his _heart_, Grell had the right to cry tears of joy. Which he did.

But through the foggy lenses, he kept reading.

_It felt rather queer for me to write that, I do not usually speak like so, but it truly is how I feel. And I wish that I had realized sooner. Because I can't do anything about it now, but tell you. _

_I wish that I had asked you more about your past, because I have not a clue about who you were, how you live, and how you've lived. I wish that you would have asked _me_, because now I feel there is nothing I would keep secret from you. I wish that you could have spent more time around, about and stalking me even. You caused me so much grief to be around, and now it hurts that you're away. _

_It is true what humans say; it takes losing something precious to know that it really is important. _

_**You**__ are important, unbelievably so. Please don't think that you aren't. That is why I accepted this resolve, to give you your own time to come to your own conclusion. But choose wisely. I won't be mad if you prefer William; I would feel angry, maddened and heartbroken, yes. But past all that, I just want _you_ to be completely sure about what you choose. If you are, I would understand. _

_And I know there is no fault in you for loving two different people. But think about it; would you share either William or me with someone else? That is how we feel. I can tell that much._

_This is all that I can offer you, and I still feel it is inadequate. One page isn't nearly enough, but I do not wish to interrupt you further, even if it's the first day's end. If you ever feel down, don't drop down to London; it seems it will continue to rain for the rest of the week._

_Regards, best wishes, and with love,_

_Sebastian Michaelis_

* * *

><p>Important.<p>

Understood, appreciated, but, most of all, _important_.

Sebastian values him. He feels it pouring from the freshly crisp letters, that essence of the soul. Even the ruby necklace he hides from all eyes, shivers with resonance.

There is effort, so much of it. A fresh new experience. Nervousness, agitation, hesitation.

Grell is the disturbance to properness and the norm, a burst of color in a world of grays. That much, he has always known. While there are those who hate him for that, he is also the light shining down on a monochrome life. And so many do they seem to be.

Was that why _they_ loved him? Why they felt so…naturally inclined to him? The life that pours from his fingers like honey; the pure, uncensored soul that mingles with the bland spirits that surround him, does it cut the strings called _custom_, the _usual_, _typical_ life? Is he that 'hope' that flashes in front of blind eyes?

He felt important. He was hope for a hopeless creature, he was change for a rigid life. He gave feeling to the numbed immortality.

He was _Red_, the color of energy, war, danger and strength. It was power, determination, hate, fire, anger, love, and desire; it was courage, exotic, erotic. It was vigor, vitality, longing, grace.

_Everlasting passion_. Red.

He was red. He was life. He was passion _incarnate_.

With hot tears stinging his eyes, Grell took the letter and tore it to shreds, no one but for him to see.

He did not need to be reminded ever again. Everything was already engraved into his crumpled heart, torn like that sheet of paper, but unlike it, piecing back together. If he ever felt that horrible stinging in his chest, all he needed to do was remember this letter.

Because he would forever be important.

* * *

><p>Ronald strolled out of the lunchroom, rather chipper that he finally got Rachel to go out with him. She was a tough woman to court, he would testify, but the light blond was just his type: petite, spunky and with naturally tan skin. It was just so appealing to him, the light rough feel of tan skin.<p>

He would never admit it, but he was jealous of Eric Slingby for having a natural light tan. Even though, in the office…he looked rather normal. _Still! _He thought_, I wish I had that! It's not like London shines with a tan-worthy sun…_

"Oof!" the half-blond peeped, running right into someone as he strolled in the hallway. He light-stepped back, finding the person he ran into quite…light.

Though, he must have been sturdier because the other fell flat on the ground with a loud _thud!_

"Ah! Sorry, Alan!" He quickly worked to help his sempai off the floor and dust his clothes. Said shorter brunette smiled warmly and waved his hand dismissively.

"Ah, no it's fine. I wasn't paying attention."

Ronald smiled brightly. "Me either!"

Alan had to chuckle at the airy, carefree ways of his junior. "Yes, I saw. Oh, have you seen Eric anywhere?"

"What a coincidence, I was just thinking about him. You really are one lucky guy, Alan-sempai," he patted the brunette, who turned a lovely pink shade in record time. "But sorry, haven't seen him. Is he avoiding his paperwork again?"

"A-ah, yes, I need to scold him about it…again." Alan coughed into a fist, forcing his cheeks to a normal tint. He then blinked a few times, as if remembering something. "Oh, and Ronald, I think you might want to see Grell. He doesn't look too well."

"Oh?" the two-tone haired reaper drew out, immediately saying his goodbyes and running to his emotional friend's cubicle. Alan sighed at the hasty retreat, knowing full well that Ronald was a worrywart when it came down to Grell.

He was like an older…sister to the young reaper. Alan tried to respect Grell's choice of being, although sometimes he accidentally referred to the effeminate shinigami by 'he'. And so he signed off to find his tall blond excuse of a boyfriend, probably hiding somewhere from imminent paperwork, with no motivation whatsoever. Maybe he was hiding in the lunchroom, since it had food.

Meanwhile Ronald rushed to find Grell, who he discovered was not in his cubicle or anywhere near it. He tried asking around, since he forgot to ask Alan and didn't want to bother him, and heard from his future date that Grell had spent the day once again in the Resources' filling room, putting in some new papers before returning to normal deskwork. He stopped again, like he had done yesterday, leisurely by the door catching his breath.

"Sempai, you alright cooped up in here again?" he tried calling casually, which got him a laidback look that said 'what are you even doing on this side of the building?' He countered the silent look with a shrugged, "Hey, I gotta check up on you every day, just to make sure you're working sanely."

Through his words, he took in Grell's appearance.

Stolen human coat in place, luscious red hair waving, make-up intact. Everything _physically_ was fine. He sure hoped Alan didn't mean Grell seemed off in his words and actions. The elder brunette was just so perceptive of how people were feeling and secretly feeling. He even told him yesterday, before work ended, that William-sempai looked dejected.

Then he embarrassingly asked what dejected meant, and he learned that his supervisor was feeling glum.

Grell looked at him questionably from the cabinet he was standing by, before rolling his eyes.

"Oh, you. Fine, I'm only taking so long because I'm thinking too much," Grell mutedly answered, putting the last few files in alphabetical order before impaling the metal drawn cabinet drawer with strength. There was no delicacy with these files since they were fresh and new, besides the obvious fact that the drawer was so full, a little force was necessary.

_That_ was something off; Grell never talked quietly.

"Woah, you think we should tell the department the cabinets are about to explode?"

"Yea, like they would care!" The redhead rang with a snicker, because he knew that new cabinets weren't really needed yet.

Ronald would disagree. Those drawers were about to ooze ink, squeezed out of the fine paper sheets. But it wasn't his priority.

"Well, if you need anything…you know I'm here."

He kept his innocent, ignorant face, deeming Grell's sullen attitude something his senior would mention if he needed help with anything. Grell was pretending everything was just fine, and he wouldn't bother him just yet. Maybe, right now, Grell didn't want to say something was wrong. And knowing the odd shinigami for as long as he has, which guiltily isn't that long, Grell would say it headfirst, and clearly.

If he hadn't yet, he wouldn't force it out. He would always be there for his friend when needed.

Something told Ronald it all had to do with William, and why he also didn't look like the usual.

He would keep that useful bit of information to himself.

"I know Ronnie, I'll be out in a few."

And with that, he left Grell again to himself, furious with himself for giving Grell the space he thinks he needs, when he really wants to help him with all he can.

He wouldn't know if he could or couldn't help.

Grell kept filling, thinking deeply about yesterday.

He was happy about his position, knowing now that he was so very important to his dearests, but it didn't mean that the answer came to him then. He still didn't know who to choose, instead he found the choice even harder than before.

If he was important to them, how could he part from them and hurt them so? William was his first love, which whom he shared his entire life of a shinigami. Through rejections, being scolded, unceremoniously hit upside his skull, there was always some form of understanding. Sebastian, though not the first in his heart, was the first to try and build a relationship with him.

Could he use 'reason' and stay with the one he's always felt for, someone who very slowly was letting him in? Or should he built anew; start a new story with a new title, with someone he wishes to learn about?

Before Grell knew it, he was back at his desk in his cubicle, small for his rank but enough since his work was mostly in the field. Letting out a loud, exhausted sigh, he planted his head flat on the desk, gaining a few startled stares from anyone walking by who heard the loud smack it made.

It was no longer 'who would be better', but 'who could I leave without hurting'.

The last coherent thought that pulled its way over to his head was cursing himself for being adamant with wanting to keep them both, still.

He could not tell in his slumbered state that William had been rounding the floor to make sure no one was slacking off.

William had built enough courage, and strength, to risk walking into Grell. And if he should come across him, his face would not betray him. All was as it should be, no matter how much he wished it wasn't this way.

Out of the corner of his left eye, the tall reaper saw Knox wave him hello in a sign to talk.

"Continue your work, Knox," he stiffly ordered, returning to check on everyone. He didn't see that Ronald kept a close eye on him as he walked away. Ronald would stay vigilant.

Turning over to the cubicles, William saw that a familiar red coat had been hung by a wheeled chair's back, on which Grell laid sleeping with his head against the average-sized desk.

He could only stare at the sleeping red blob on the desk, half-sprawled with long red hair almost everywhere.

The supervising reaper could see that Grell did not seem to be sleeping peacefully, and this bothered him, more than the fact that the junior of the two was sleeping on the job. Without the conscious reaper, William relaxed part of his visage, instinctively frowning. He was not happy that Grell had to tear his head apart trying to make up a decision, but if he knew Grell well, and he _did_, the petite reaper would not pin a decisive choice. Grell had the tendency to judge based by pros and cons, except he never took into consideration the cons.

It was good-hearted of him, but it would lead nowhere in this situation. He _had_ to look at the bad traits too, and the past traits, compatible traits, non-compatible ones…even future ones.

Perhaps Grell did it subconsciously, but William noticed that the sleeping reaper had tugged on his left arm's sleeve with his right hand. He had gotten close, and Grell felt his unmistakable presence.

"Will…" he whispered, just shy enough to be heard. And for that instant, William entered in panic thinking he had been found out. But one look at the still figure said Grell was still asleep, and he only unconsciously recognized him to be close.

There were no more words exchanged, the redhead fell back into his newfound deep sleep. The tall brunette sighed in relief. But Grell still looked quite troubled, even as he slept.

He couldn't, and wouldn't, leave him like that.

Ronald just growled in frustration when he sat back down, seeing that his senior had gone in another direction. He hoped to somehow get William-sempai to say something about what might be going on; he was almost one-hundred percent sure that he was involved with whatever was bothering his favorite red senior.

He realized he must have been thinking about it too much, because he saw that William had returned from watching the department.

Except…

"Say, William-sempai!" he yelled this time, fully aware that he would be shushed by seven different people, since he was supposed to be writing his report on the last reaping. Luckily, he managed to get the elder reaper's attention. Said taller reaper grimaced at the rowdy voice.

"What is it now, Knox?" With his custom frown in place, he regarded the half-blond with a wary eye.

"What happened to your coat? I could've sworn you had it on a minute ago."

Glancing at himself, coatless and sporting his black waistcoat for all to see, William shook his head, frown still in place. Ronald was a watchful one, and a _loud_ one. Now a few people were eyeing him and the odd fact that he was missing his wool coat.

"Get back to work, those reports are due tomorrow," he dodged and continued on his way to his office. Ronald only scratched the back of his head, not knowing what to make of the appearance. He distinctly recalled the coat, or…was he seeing things? But then again, he had never seen his tall superior _without_ his coat. He _must_ have been right, and William somehow discarded it seemingly without care.

Elsewhere in a little decorate cubicle, Grell shrugged with the weight of something warm and soft over his shoulders. Even in his sleep, he could feel its still-warm thick cloth, shrouding him from a bad dream.

Whatever it was, it smelled faintly like honey mixed with a musky cologne scent.

* * *

><p><em>NA: I bet no one expected the Undertaker to appear in the story :D. And now that I mention him, (finally, some setting idea!) his appearance states that the Campania arc never happened, so this story breaks from the Murder Mystery arc, and Ciel practically did normal Queen duties until now. Undertaker has a sort of complicated status (I'll clear that up better in the next chapter or on his next appearance). I even managed to bring up Eric/Alan into the chapter, although it might be the only time you'll see it…_

_Good day!_


	12. What is Forever?

_A/N: …I have no excuse for the lateness. OTL. _

_I had my "must-write-now" days, my "writer-block" days, and my "busy" days and "lazy" days, like all of us. Before you know it, almost three months have passed…almost._

_Oh well, I blame Youtube and its seductive powers. Plus life. They kept pulling me back… So many assignments…! /cry_

_On the other hand, I think this is a pretty good chapter. Definitely a lot of dialog. Biggest one I've done so far too (I packed 2 chapters in one to compensate for time. Yes? No? /facepalm). Hope you enjoy reading for a long time!_

* * *

><p>The workfloor was as lively as it always was in the mornings: workers strutting to their place, papers fluttering about, even the occasional loud outburst from a broken toe, courtesy of a misplaced desk. The only difference today was that Grell had arrived a little late, and now he faced a horde of younger, less responsible reapers like himself crowding the punch clock. But unlike the thrashing little worms pushing at each other, he knew how to slither around cramp spaces expertly.<p>

Needless to say, he wormed his way with force to the machine, grabbed his card quickly, punched it in and placed it in the 'in work' bin.

And the instant the task was completed, he sprinted out of there with haste, or as fast as he possibly could in the middle of the crowd, to the lunchroom and get himself some well-needed breathing space. One always felt claustrophobic in that one spot around the punch clock, even when it wasn't crowded, and the red vixen had enough years of experience to know.

Besides a few bumps along the way, mostly with other drowsy reapers, it was a relatively short run.

But somehow, the coated reaper managed to lose wind in his sprint.

"It's a good thing I ate breakfast…" he muttered to himself, rather lightheaded after his surge of adrenaline. But it was manageable, and after five good minutes of breathing in the empty room, empty since it was mostly occupied during noon, Grell felt all better.

The clean room provided him with a calm, white atmosphere. Usually, the hyperactive jitterbug would find the lack of life and blankness sickening and unsettling; a familiar ominous feeling. But after waking up late, flustered, and encountering a swarm of rough 'teens', he couldn't care less.

He needed to recheck his make-up anyway.

A handy mirror in hand pulled from the trusty waistcoat's pocket served essentially for that. He had rushed out of his inadequate home in high hopes of making it in time; one of the reasons his credit was reasonably good was because of his tendency to be just in the nick of time. One could count on one hand just how many times Grell has arrived late for work.

Deciding _not _to go to work was a different story, and a well-known one.

Fortunately, Ronald decided to take his morning coffee before starting his rounds, and so found Grell in the middle of reapplying his eyelashes, which wasn't so fortunate in the young blonde's book.

"You know, I'll never get how women can just stick that near their eyes so easily," the blond commented with a yawn and a crooked frown, glad to see Grell so early in the morning, but not to see him putting on make-up of all things…

The redhead though ignored his junior for now. Aligning the lashes right was much more important.

Grell didn't really put on the fake lashes because of their cute red glimmer, or because he found it necessary. He thought that his natural eyelashes were a tad too dark for his style, bordering on a maroon-brick red as opposed to his bright, cherry-colored hair that flung about. It just didn't match well!

The fake lashes worked to pop in them just the kind of red he wanted, and with it, he only needed to apply little mascara and have more fun shadowing. At least his method did.

After the lashes were fixed and bonded with the mascara, Grell finally craned his neck in Ronald's direction, indifferent to the man's thoughts on make-up. "One of these days I'll give you a makeover, Ronnie. It's not as easy as it seems."

Ronald was left with a bit of a shock at seeing the elaborate cosmetic process, mostly because the change was noticeable to him. In a good way, he thought. Those lashes really sparkled perfectly with a mixture of reds and dark tones now.

The lady-killer mentally gave Grell credit for his brand choices. _Rimmel'_s finest, if he recalled; a couple of his past girlfriends used the brand too.

The younger shinigami took a second to clear his throat at the thought of Grell giving him a makeover, "I could guess that much sempai, but I don't want a pencil near my eyes. And what are you doing here anyway?"

Ever the jittery youth, Ronald continuously shifted his weight from one leg to the other, looking like a broken metronome. The click of oxford heels against marble helped to sound like one. It was strangely comforting in the empty silence between their sentences.

"Same as you, coffee," Grell lied, but it went unnoticed by the black-clad reaper.

He may not have been a great liar, but Ronald was dense enough to lie to easily. The blond still believed that William could talk to birds –the boy fails to realize that they have something called a _bird code_– and that dying half your hair golden blond was normal. Well, he wasn't one to speak about 'normal' things, so he wouldn't mention them out loud.

But he's noticed the young'un getting sharper.

"Um, Grell-sempai…" the young bloke drawled, pointing at the red reaper's neck, "I think you also need to fix your bowtie."

Drowsily, Grell perked at the comment and found that his striped tie had one end loose. How lovely. "Oh, didn't notice. Thank you, darling."

Ronald silently watched as his odd senior hastily fixed his makeshift tie. He took that short time to think on how to bring up what he'd been dying to ask for a day, but never could. It was convenient for him that they were alone now, and had some time to talk before heading off to work. He just didn't know how to voice that he was worried.

The young reaper learned quite early in his afterlife that with the right words, you could get exactly what you wanted out of a person. He frequently demonstrated that with the ladies.

And, though Grell was a complicated one to wring answers out of, it just took some careful planning. He would have to be mindful of his words. But then again, his mouth tended to forget to process and just blurt out what first came to mind.

He really wanted to know what was wrong, so he would try.

The golden reaper stayed quiet for a few more seconds after Grell had finished fixing his favorite bow, before breaking the ice again. He would wait until a whine, hum, groan, sigh, murmur or moan sounded from his senior before using the chance to speak. He would have to wait though.

Grell, lost in his own world again, wondered how _he _would get a word out of William.

Yesterday, after a much needed nap at work, he found his shoulders covered by a black coat that wasn't there before, certainly didn't belong to him, and most certainly belonged to his stone-faced supervisor.

Choosing a man, the _right_ man, was easier said than done.

If he chose one, he would hurt the other. If he didn't choose, they would choose _for_ him, and body limbs would likely fly dyed in blood. They were both just perfect, and he wasn't. They both thought _he_ was important, but he didn't feel particularly special. Not now, anyway. If anything, he felt stupid.

Stupid because he couldn't decide already, and time wasn't very patient.

Stupid because his heart won't stop hurting, and won't help him make his choice.

_Stupid, _Grell thought with a sigh, _I'm always making 'stupid' decisions._

"Say…sempai," he noticed the sigh and took the opportunity with a start, "Is…there anything going on?"

Grell turned to face Ronald with a tilted head, regarding the question. He had forgotten about the boy being in the same room with him for a second. "What do you mean, Ronnie?"

"Well, it's just that," Ronald paused, gathering the right words. He needed to be delicate about it after all, "It's just that, you don't act like your usual happy self, you know? At least in these past few days. I mean, even though you're irresponsible, you're still here every day on time! Just in case there's a good bloody reap on your list to look forward to. And you were almost _late!_"

The senior of the two huffed out, a little awkwardly. "Ronald, really. You're imagining things, there's nothing wrong."

Secretly, he worried that the blond was onto something. He wasn't ashamed about his position or the people involved, but he wanted to do this alone, very stubbornly.

Ronald saw through the lie this time.

"Grell," he dropped the honorific, quickly gaining the redhead's attention, "I just want you to know, I'm here for you if you need anything, okay? What are best buds for, right?"

"Of course I _know_ that," was his sassy reply.

Grell knew that Ronald was trustworthy.

He saw Ronald as his spunky little brother. A protégé of sorts. And it was precisely why he couldn't tell _him_, of all people. He would first consult to a wall about his problems and the meaning of life before Ronald, and not because the boy's opinion was worth less than a blank wall's.

The redhead couldn't care less about what others thought of him –and frequently said so to remind said others–, but what _Ronald_ said mattered; what Ronald thought mattered. He didn't want his friend to see him any differently. Any less. Even with all the bad reputation he has, the kid still sticks around because he trained under him, and therefore learned before the rumors reached his virgin ears that not everything people gossiped about was true.

But most of all, the youth was inexperienced. _How_ could he help him? Granted, the youth was smart, cunning and streetwise. But love affairs were different.

Ronald was the sort of 'gentleman' that didn't lie about what he wanted. If he just wanted to date a girl for kicks, he would tell her first, then proceed with the wooing. If he was rather horny and needed a willing volunteer, he would also tell the person. And if he was serious, which no one has seen so far, the lucky gal would know first from him than anyone else.

They don't always agree to his terms and desires, but at least he presents the facts first, and never hides his intentions. That was one of the reasons he was so popular among the girls even with his womanizer personality, his heartfelt honesty.

Most of all, he has never cheated, not once. He would first break up with his partner before pursuing another woman. Rather odd for a womanizer.

He also didn't approve of it, cheating that is. Oh joy.

Grell had to sigh once more. His subordinate was too honest and nice for his own good, "Ronald…you just wouldn't understand."

Even with how much time has passed, in his mind, Ronald would forever be that young kid that came into the division almost twenty years ago, fresh as a picked apple, clueless and determined. He was four inches shorter then, and quite focused on showing only but the best to his seniors. Eventually that little focus turned to the ladies, as we all know.

Grell called it the adolescence stage that happens after the first decade.

How motherly of him, treating Ronnie like a little chickling.

"I can try!" the blond cried out, feeling a little insulted at his sempai's words, "And you don't know that. Maybe I would understand! I'm…I'm really worried, sempai! Something's wrong and I know it!"

Ronald quickly walked to his senior and surprised both of them by grabbing each of his hands with his own.

The dyed blond squeezed hesitantly over Grell's gloved fingers; he had meant to grab him strongly, perhaps even a bit harshly to show something, _anything_ to his senior that he was very serious about what he felt. But his weak grip loosened more without notice.

He could never treat his family roughly, and Grell was family to him. That protective big sister always getting him out of trouble, and sometimes _in_ trouble. He taught him all he knew, even how to make a dimple in his tie. It was impossible for him with means of force to get what he wanted to know. But he could do so much more with just his eyes.

And the startled redhead could see it in his eyes, Ronald was determined.

"I'll to hear you out," Ronald promised, pouring every ounce of sincerity that he could in his voice like water, "But please tell me. I _want_ to help."

_It was adolescence,_ was what Grell told himself whenever Ronald had that fiery drive, that _persistence_ about anything and everything that he wanted.

He was secretly jealous too, of how the boy never accepted defeat, he never even _thought _of defeat; he just kept going.

Perhaps that was why many people often told Grell that he and Ronald were the same in that aspect: unstoppable when tempted, and _boy_, were they unstoppable. Although it was true that he had his persistent moments, Ronald would surely surpass him by miles. The kid ran on pure, youthful, never-ending fuel. And Grell had times when even breathing felt like a hazard, only it didn't really matter if he did or didn't—and this frightened him sometimes, the fact that it was useless to breathe.

He was starting to doubt that it was 'just a stage'. Instead, it might just be how Ronald is, was and always has been. A certain quality that identifies him, and only him. The boy—the _man_, was really _too_ honest for his own good, and toohonest for it to be _just a stage_.

And how could he stay quiet looking at his friend straight in the eye?

Grell lowered his glaze with a little gruff. The young reaper's glass-covered eyes had gleamed with something he couldn't quite name. And it wasn't exactly 'truth' or 'honesty'.

It was…something much _more _than truth. Much _deeper_. Like a connection, a sort of feeling_. _Maybe it was awe, or need, or even _hope._ Perhaps a mixture of it all. Whatever it was, Grell was sure there wasn't a name for it. And he was sure that only Ronald created this feeling in people with just his eyes.

If Ronald was willing to hear, he would be willing to speak.

Just this once.

"…How about tomorrow?"

He could just imagine Ronald's lime-green eyes light up and widen, even with his gaze directed at the clean floor. That burst of happiness oozing out of every pore on his porcelain skin.

Grell couldn't help the miniscule smile that grazed his lips, thinking about his little boy of a man's jolly smile, "Is that alright with you?" Grell added, not really noticing that he was becoming happy himself. Such a contagious feeling.

The blond almost missed that last question amidst all his excitement too.

"Yes," was his automatic answer, "Yes, yes, of course it's alright! Absolutely perfe—I mean—," Ronald stopped himself from blabbing on, coughing awkwardly at his childlikeness, "I'll meet you at the library, how's that?"

His junior's burst of delight that began to rub off on him showed clearly now. Grell could have sworn he felt a grin-like smile creeping up his face as he nodded. It felt foreign, despite how much of his life he had spent doing just that, smiling and grinning.

And Ronald, being the cute little reaper he was, bobbed his head up and down feistily, with his glasses comically bouncing on the bridge of his nose.

The youth scratched his two-toned head a few times after feeling the joints in his neck give a few unwilling snaps with his big, pentagon glasses ending up in an odd angle. Though, with how his hand scratched away, Ronald could see out of his dangling watch that it was already time for his shift to start, and so he quickly excused himself to leave.

"Hey, Ronnie," he caught the youth before he jolted away in a hurry.

With a quizzical look, Ronald turned hastily, "What?"

"Thanks," Grell gave with a lighter smile.

Rather confused, the suited reaper stared at his red-coated senior for a good second before shaking his head with a little chuckle. He would hear about it tomorrow. Right now, he was close to late to take his ledger.

Grell eventually got a goofy grin in return from Ronald, "I haven't done anything worth your thanks. Not that I know of," the shaggy-haired reaper quickly added before heading right out with a wave of his palm.

But in all of his joy and excitement, Ronald ran right into another co-worker blinded by a large stack of papers, effectively scattering them all around as they fell down on their butts. Everyone present at the scene turned for a second, then continued with whatever it was that occupied their day.

And Grell got a good look at the accident from the lunchroom door, watching with a chuckle as his little, cherry-cheeked junior excused himself and helped the other up.

The redhead shook his head with a rumble of laughter caught at his throat, "Silly boy…"

_You've done plenty._

* * *

><p>It was almost noon now.<p>

The hallways were empty, unlike in the mornings, no longer bustling with antsy reapers running to and fro with papers. All of them were now either reaping, or eating lunch; all of them except William, it seemed. Typically, William preferred to stay in his office looking over a particular report that possibly involved rogue demons over a nice meal.

It reminded him of _another_ infuriating red-eyed individual of the mentioned species.

A shy knock came from the closed door, stealing his attention from the glare he was giving the poor piece of paper at his disposal. William signed it and stamped it for his superiors to review before clearing his dry throat, which was making him feel parched, and giving a loud enough, "Come in," to the creature that had the guts to bother him _in the middle of work_.

He wasn't too surprised to find Grell at the other end, poking his head into the room meekly. "G-good morning," came shyly from him. It sounded rather odd coming from his usually expressive mouth.

William nodded him in, "Sutcliff."

_He still felt a little guilty for leaving Grell alone. Especially how he did._

Grell pressed further into the room with one hand while the other held William's coat. He hadn't returned it yet since yesterday he had been given another task regarding organizing files. Luckily, he finished it all before the day ended and could return to the basic tasks today, like rearranging his desk.

It surprisingly took more than two hours. He never knew he had so many pens lying about.

Presently, Grell kept quiet as he walked over to the guest seat in front of the desk, coat still behind him. And it was damn difficult to do, being quiet that is.

He had so many things, so many questions to bombard the man with. Was he sleeping well? Had he also skipped a meal? Was it just as hard for him to stay away? Does he worry now, like he always does? _Because I'm worried about you too, Will._

Once he sat down, the black coat was moved to his front, over the desk and onto the unsuspecting owner's nose. William had guessed that it was the reason Grell currently sat in front of him, but having part of his wool suit flung at his face still surprised him. It didn't show in his face, of course.

"Um…here. I think this belongs to you," Grell murmured while pressing some of the wrinkles down.

Ignoring the possibility that some of the ink might have gotten onto the coat in the exchange, William grabbed his thrown attire and hung it at the back of his seat fluidly. He was wearing a different coat today, albeit same to the one he gave Grell, so it wasn't like he could put it on now. That would be silly, wearing a coat over a coat. "Thank you."

_He wasn't quite sure if Grell still thought he wanted to forget him. _

With their exchange, William returned to his papers and one fairly nasty report about a human's death, preferring to keep quiet.

According to the report, it took quite the hour fishing out the cinematic record from the river steamboat's paddlewheels. The poor soul had been thrown into the river by some Shanghai mafia lackeys, reasons not found, and drowned in the struggle out of his restrains. Unfortunately, before the assigned shinigami could properly reap the soul, a steamboat happened to pass by the river. The rest is gruesomely detailed in writing.

Amidst reading the account, William failed to realize Grell had yet to leave, or speak. It was when he cleared his throat, which gave Grell a start from the sudden sound, that the redhead finally said, "Is it alright if I stay?"

Honestly, the grumpy reaper would want that, what with all the depressing things he's read today. It was a miracle he didn't see things in a darker light.

And he's noticed without Grell's constant visits, which serve more as distractions, that the air just becomes gloomier. The sickly reports don't help. It was ghastly crude and gory.

Then again, perhaps it was _because_ Grell always barged in, halting any hopes of doing work, that he never really noticed just how dehumanizing the reading was.

But he couldn't just pretend that things were fine and dandy. He _wished _though.

_He didn't feel worthy. _

He felt like trash, like _crap_, bluntly. William wanted to apologize and clear the misinterpretation between them. Little did he know that Grell already went pass that night and was now much more preoccupied worrying about him.

A small part of him won't allow it, voicing himself and cleaning his stressing mind; that irrational part of his was doing it. Or was it the rational one…?

"I believe you have a soul to reap today?" William calmly pressed, oddly disappointed that his brain was in command today.

Grell, however, rarely listened to his brain. And so he remained adamant with staying, "I don't want to go until we talk."

If being childish would lead him inside William's head, he would be childish.

But the bespectacled supervisor would not have it.

"Sutcliff, this is not the time nor the place for a 'talk', now go do your job, and no wandering off." With one pen in hand, he pointed at the door for Grell to get the hint visually.

_He didn't feel like talking today. _

Even if he wanted to, _really really _wanted to, which he did, his body didn't feel up for talking. The idea of it froze his jaw solid.

Perhaps…once this was all over, if he can…

Another paper out of the pile, William began to skim over it to distract himself. He read the words in his head quickly as his eyes passed over each word, stealthy and fast in pace. But across him, his relentless company did not stand up from his seat to leave.

A strong sigh almost left his lips, but he faltered before it formed and echoed in the tense room.

There was an odd word he caught as he read.

He had been too preoccupied with skimming through the paper that he just now realized what it was about.

During the past night, like any other night, one of the late-dispatchers had a handful recollecting a soul and its cinematic record. Sometime around midnight, a young woman had thrown herself off the balcony, three stories high, into a busy street after a disastrous meeting with her fiancé.

The woman had been engaged to a young lad ever since their youth; but at the time, the boy didn't like the idea of being forced to marry someone he didn't know. The young noble expressed his denial, but his word held no power in the ordeal.

Years had passed and he stayed the same, but she didn't. She had seen him grow into a man; a wonderful, enchanting man who was very chivalrous with her. Well, only in front of his parents and company.

She had fallen for him.

And yesterday, which was the night before their wedding, she gained the courage to open up after so long hiding her feelings, because her destined man, her fiancé and first love, would finally accept her. Right then, before their lives were forever entwined, was the perfect time to confess her eternal admiration. She was overjoyed to see him feel the same way.

Only he didn't.

In fact, he was angered that his to-be wife would expect him to love her back. He _yelled _it, how it was greedy of her to want what he couldn't give.

He never hit her, being raised to never hit a woman, but words were enough to fog her sight at the dawn of tears. And long after he left her alone in the room she had towed him to for her confession, she cried silently, not wishing to attract any attention. Her cream dress had been crumpled in her fists to keep herself from digging her beautiful nails into her palm.

The little things before death, like how the tiny droplets fell and melted into her dress, and the swallowing depth of misery and wretchedness, are always detailed in the records of a soul.

She was a shy one, and she only wanted that one thing from him, his love. But he denied her.

So she committed suicide by jumping off her bedroom balcony, refusing to live with the pain for the rest of her life.

_How weak_, William thought, _to die because of love._

Oddly, he didn't blame the woman for what she did.

Human lives were so fleeting, so very weak to poignant, sentimental times. So…_human_. And for just that second a stray, eerie thought ran into William's head as he read again.

Grell was just like that; frivolous, idealistic, and…impulsive. So human. And there was no doubt in his mind that if Grell _wanted_ to, he could off himself.

Because of that, he had always paid attention for any sign, any hint of despair after that bathroom incident decades ago with the infuriating Bancroft Terence. Whenever it _did _happen, those moments when Grell seemed to question his existence, he would keep an eye on him like a hawk.

_Whenever it happened, he never lectured Grell. He watched what he said and did._

Suicide. The word chilled him. And it was a very unpleasant feeling crawling up his spine.

"B-but Will—," he was lead back from his grim enticement with a hum of a whine coming from the seated officer, and he jolted back into reality with a snarl.

"I said get back to work!"

_He felt angry. _

Angry because it could happen. Angry because _he _could cause it.

The harsh tone William had startled the redhead greatly, frightening him. He wasn't used to hearing his icy superior be _actually _mad. It was scary.

Why was it that he could tell what the man was feeling, but not _thinking_? What use did it have for him, if he couldn't see the meaning behind it? It only made him hesitate!

"…I…I'm not going to!"

William stood up from his chair abruptly, slamming his palms down to the wooden desk. He wasn't quite sure why he did it though. It felt like he would be more in control of his thoughts if he stood.

Neither he nor Grell noticed that his hands planted upon the desk were shaking.

"_Grell Sutcliff_," the still-seated reaper caught the tone.

There was a stern look formed on William's features; by the hard stare he was getting, he could see that there was something wrong. William was being _too_ serious.

He had never seen that look before. Grell thought that the hardest glare he could get was that famed frigid one, which contrarily sent a pleasant chill down his spine instead of making him feel guilty for whatever he had done.

Now, he could see that it was just a childish scowl compared to this; nothing more than a chiding look, like the kind a mother gives her child for doing something bad.

_Now,_ he could see what a _true_ glare received from William was. 'If looks could kill' had nothing on it; he would have burnt into a pile of simmering ash and disintegrated into dust in an instant.

The Jack the Ripper incident, the greatest crime in his record to date and one constantly hanging over his head, seemed like mere child's play, a spilled teacup.

And he only wanted to _talk_.

Was it wrong that he wanted to talk?

"There is nothing to talk about," he addressed to Grell with _that_ _tone_, "Not yet. Now be reasonable and do what you are supposed to do, reap souls."

The raging shinigami didn't want to say it. He didn't want to say just how much this whole ordeal was affecting him.

He couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. He was stressed the whole day, and tired all night. And even with how much his bones creaked and begged for rest in the past couple of days, he _still _couldn't catch any decent sleep.

He was either angry, sorrowful or worried every _single_ minute. Not to mention the constant throbbing _pain_ starting in his chest whenever he thought that Grell just might leave him. That he could just up and disappear with someone else after he finally accepted what he felt all this time, that he loved.

And now, _now _he had to go and think that Grell might find this all just enough to _kill himself _for? Because he couldn't stand it all? Because he had power over his own life, and didn't want it anymore?

_Something felt off. He was shaking a little too much._

"William, I just–wait," _He had a headache now, or was beginning to have a headache. Unquestionably, there was a dull throb at his temple, right under his skull. The anger, the frustration, the _exhaustion_ might be starting to take a toll on him, that could be why,_ "Are…are you implying something with that?" _He could see with a bit of a haze that Grell was staring at him with something akin to confusion. It became a frown. Where was that anxiousness coming from? He felt a sense of panic. What was he thinking about again? The headache wasn't helping him remember, and when did Grell stand? Why did his lungs feel so tight? _"Because…I'm not _reasonable_," '_I'm breathing hard, that isn't good, just take a deep breath,' he could feel a trickle of sweat falling down at his nape. What was it?_ _'What was Grell talking about?'_ _"_And I certainly won't do something because you _want _me to." _No, no, did he say something wrong? What was he talking about! He needed to think, he wanted to think, but he just couldn't. Breathe, can't breathe. Why couldn't he? 'Why can't I think? Why does my arm hurt! Why does everything hurt now!?'_

"William, voice yourself! I won't leave until you do!"

"Grell, I said not now!"

_Now his feet felt numb. And his head…it felt like his brain was _swimming_ around in his skull. Is there something wrong!? _

Grell wasn't paying much attention to what William was feeling now, only his words. He had no way of knowing just what it was that his superior was experiencing at the moment. It would have been better if he had, instead of yelling with all his force.

"_No_, I said I _won't!_"

But it was too late to stop.

Everything blanked out for…a second? A minute? Time couldn't tell.

_It all turned white._

When his headache died down, enough for him to think straight again, his gloved hand had begun to pulse violently.

William flinched with it, frustrated with the unexpected pain. Part of it came from his arms, all the way from his shoulders, which ached terribly. Why was it that things started hurting all of a sudden?

But part of it felt stinging, hot at the palm. How long had it been stinging?

And that's when he grasped it.

Grell.

He struck Grell. He just slapped him across the face.

He _struck_ him. Struck his _face. _

He froze in shock and alarm.

_How had that happened?_

Granted, throughout the ages, William had smacked the excitable fellow plenty of times. Most of the time with an object sharp enough to shed blood.

But it was just a hit. It had no deep meaning behind it besides inflicting order back into the red blot and his erred ways. Most of the time, it didn't have any force. Just a hit. It was meaningless.

He'd never hit him with his hands like this before.

_It was different._

He could feel it. His fingertips pulsed with heated blood, running quickly through his veins to lessen the sting present. He struck him _hard._

And it _hurt. _William could see it now, written in Grell's face. There was a reddening imprint over his right cheek, and a dazed, baffled look etched on his face. It was rosy, as if he was only blushing on one side. And quickly darkening.

They were both equally shocked.

He drew back his hand, which had hung in the air around them stiffly, over to his side where it belonged.

It felt alien, the silence.

As he tried to make reason of it all, the dull throbbing in his chest returned with vengeance.

Grell couldn't begin to process what just happened.

Had William, had he _actually _done that? Had that _really _happened just now? The numb, absent pain couldn't confirm it for him. It was as if it never happened. As if the hand just went through him, instead of _at _him.

He wasn't about to accept that he'd just been slapped either. By _William_ of all people.

All he did was just stare blankly at where his face had jolted to, a bit inclined to the floor, staring off to his left. He feared that his neck might just snap if he moved.

He was afraid. Afraid of what just happened. _Why _did it happen? Had he done something wrong? Had he _said _something wrong?

Had things really changed so much in just two days?

_Why do my eyes hurt so much?_

William remained standing, not a single twitch or scowl upon his face to show the sudden pain pulsing over his chest. It _ached_ painfully.

And he couldn't face Grell now, not while they each imposed their own control. Their own frozen shock. Not until he can reason why his hand just acted on its own accord.

He tried to say something, willing his mind to work now when it was most needed.

He couldn't think of anything to say.

"…Please go…"

At the back of his head, William could faintly hear his own words. They sounded distant, quiet. _Far away. _

But he could see Grell, turning and walking away, the click of his heels fading, farther and farther away, until reaching the door to the outside.

Grell had stopped at the door; he wasn't sure why but his body just stopped altogether. As if _time_ stopped.

His face hurt. And it wasn't because of the smack he received.

It felt hot, brimming with a salty wetness, inking down black with a red tint across the numb, rosy cheek. Just as a raindrop, it pattered down onto the cleaned, rug-less floor, staining it with a single bloody color.

_He didn't want to go… But he couldn't stay._

After what seemed an eternity, his hand finally pushed the door open, and the broken, lost soul left, quietly. He recognized that there was nothing else to say between them. Not now. They both needed some space now. To digest the seconds that just passed.

Things had become more complicated again.

_He hates me, _Grell thought with a pinch of misery,_ He hates me now because of what I've done. He hates Sebastian more than he loves me. _

In the lone silence, William took his seat once more, forehead furrowed in both pain and distress, regretting that he couldn't say _anything _other than 'please go'. A myriad of things to say, and only _that_ came from his mouth.

William couldn't feel any worse. Whatever he held over his head before as the worst couldn't compare to this.

And he didn't just _tell _Grell to leave, he _let _him go. He let him go without something to say. Without an explanation. Without a single _word. _He _allowed_ it.

Among the dread, he felt an odd sensation of his ribs being constricted, trapped in a coiling great snake's embrace.

_I'm so sorry._

Below, on the first floor of the building, the working desk reaper currently counting the absent workers saw from out of the corner of her eye an unusual sight. Unusual because it never occurred during this time.

Her senior, Mister Spears, was heading down past her, for lunch she thought.

"Sir? Spears?" She addressed at him before he walked ahead, "It's rather rare to see you down at this time, or at all, actually. Is something wrong? The hunger was too much this time?"

It was a lightheaded comment, some interest and curiosity intended in it, but nothing more.

She was rather new as a receptionist and was more accustomed to being behind a glass giving papers back in General Affairs, but even from her department, she knew who Mister Spears was, and the respect he upholds. Bringing up some casual 'how's-the-weather' kind of talk might get her on his good side.

The desk reaper noticed curiously that her senior didn't seem to look well. Or as well as he appeared to be compared to the times she saw him in the mornings and late evenings.

He seemed paler and, dare she think, ill.

"Sir, you don't look very healthy today, if you would excuse me saying," she kindly and warily added, not quite confident when speaking directly at the esteemed reaper.

She was met only with a recognizing eye and a short nod before passing by her a bit quicker, shakily she observed.

"Yes. Write me up as sick leave," he ordered, not as strong as he would usually.

Her eyes widened a margin from surprise, "S-sir? But…you've never left work early! And never sick! W-what is it?"

It was impossible to think that their Dispatch supervisor was leaving work _early_ of all things_. _It was one of those things that just…didn't happen. Never.

William didn't stop from his slow, progressing walk out; he only raised his voice enough to answer. "I just need a few days to myself. I'll have a form and excuse when I return. Put Humphries in charge while I'm gone."

_Humphries? _She thought, _But he'll be eaten alive by the directors! _

What would have been her retort stuttered when William left by to the great doors of the building's entrance with discomforting and worrisome parting words.

"I think I just had an anxiety attack."

* * *

><p>The weather was rather gray in London, darker than usual even with all the rain letting up. The famed city's streets appeared drenched with murk and dirt with the passing downpour. Grime and trash piled in the poorer streets, while the busier walkways had been already cleaned, for those streets could afford it, unlike the poor and ill. Such was the life of the ordinary folk, left in the shadows of the wealthy.<p>

Today proved to be cloudy, but not enough to darken the weather into a second summer shower.

It was hot, for certain. A type of humid heat rolled around the wet atmosphere. It wasn't wonderful. Like morning dew mixed with sweat.

Grell had finished his rounds. All the souls and their respective cinematic records had been collected. Safe and sound in his arms from pesky low-ranked demons looking for snacks. They were fewer now with Sebastian around though.

Nightfall would come soon, but there was still enough time left to waste away. Grell felt that wasting time would do him good today.

His cheek still hurt.

But walking around London proved a useless pastime; either dresses along the stores that he couldn't buy or a good, expensive meal his wallet would certainly cry about.

He still didn't know what he did wrong.

He didn't think he did wrong in the first place.

_And…Will didn't look very well…did I catch him at a bad time? I hope I did… But he didn't have to hit me! It hurts…_

It hurt where his heart was too.

He didn't want to think that a situation like the one he experienced some hours ago would affect what he thought about William. Just because of the wrong time, and the wrong place…he wouldn't change his feelings because of that. Not so easily.

But he better get a goddamned apology and a good explanation when he got back.

Before even realizing his mistake, the pensive reaper found himself near the Phantomhive estate; he recognized it by the look of the dark, musky forest and the eerie hooting of owls that only seemed to exist near the manor.

"Creepy boy," he muttered to himself, thinking the Earl guilty for his choice in greenery.

_I shouldn't be here…_

He stepped closer in the manor's direction.

_But I need to. My instincts tell me to._

A long sigh left him as he crossed into the cobblestone pathway that led to the infamous Phantomhive home. Finally out of the trees and into the path; the low branches had started to pull at his hair anyway. A nice, spacious path would do.

Grell wondered if he walked a long way from London, since the brat's home was quite a distance away, but the sunset had yet to come, so he couldn't very much tell. Time seemed to last much longer recently.

Before he knew it, and before he could help it, the front door to the sinister mansion laid ahead, just a couple of feet away. As he climbed the stairs, Grell debated whether to stay or leave.

_I really shouldn't be here but…_ Once at the door, he decided to knock.

Why not, he was already here. _Might as well._ Throw what caution was left to the wind.

His chest would still ache with the possibility of another painful encounter.

Almost a second after knocking on the large double doors, a reply came from the other side, which made his strained heart jump in his chest from the unexpected, calm voice that came as an answer.

"What are you doing here?"

He had not expected to meet with Sebastian so quickly. Even with a door serving as a barrier between them, nervousness crept up his neck.

And for the second time that day, he didn't know what to say. He didn't know if he was _allowed_ to say anything. It seemed that secret rules had taken place, and one of them was _permission._

Grell took his time slowly, nervously toying with his fingers. He noticed with a pout that his favorite red heels had gotten muddy with his trip through the forest.

"…I don't know," he tried first, "I'm just here."

_Great way to start a chat,_ he would have slapped himself, if it wasn't for the fresh memory of a real one.

Finding a way to reassure himself on his decision, Grell started to think on the letter from Sebastian and on its words.

He had no reason to feel nervous right now. He knew that Sebastian had to be eager to see him. Perhaps he wouldn't act on it, but the thought counted. At least now he could tell what the demon was thinking, even if he couldn't very much tell what he was feeling. Could he be nervous too? Could he be angry at him instead? The damned door refused to cooperate.

The bluffing reaper vainly tried smiling at the door, as if the demon on the other side would be able see him. Maybe he did, how could he know? At least smiling made him feel a little more confident.

He didn't feel very confident though. Gods, what he would give to have Ronald's perkiness right now…

Sebastian, from inside the mansion, shook his head in disapproval. He had felt the reaper's presence yards away, before the knock. A part of him wanted to ignore it, preferring to keep to his promise of staying away, but another part of him was rather curious to see what it was that brought the red reaper over.

"Why are you here then?" the butler tentatively asked, his curiosity winning over his resolve to keep quiet.

_Of course_ he wanted to let the reaper in. He wanted to even more than satisfying his hunger for Ciel's soul. And that was quite the big want. _He was starving. _

"I-I," Grell stuttered while playing with his hands. It wasn't like he plannedcoming here. What could he possibly say as an excuse? "I don't know either. I guess I wanted to see you."

Maybe that was the truth. While his feet brought him there, fearing his return back to his realm, he might have subconsciously wanted to find affection.

It wasn't like Sebastian could actually read his mind and see what was troubling him.

He couldn't possibly know that William had hurt him.

Would he be angry if he knew though?

Grell lowered his gaze from the door, feeling the demon's eyes press down on him through the hard, decorate wood. Most likely it was only his imagination, his mind playing tricks on him, but it felt that way. The red eyes on him.

He felt childish now for saying that he wanted to see Sebastian.

And he secretly knew that, even if they both wanted to, his wish wouldn't be granted.

It was obvious that Sebastian wouldn't break his personal pact, but he had broken the rules already with William. It couldn't hurt more to see just how things are now, right?

Even if two wrongs didn't make a right.

"You should leave," the resounding voice told from inside the manor.

_I know_, Grell pointed out to himself. It was a bitter thought.

This time, he regarded the door closely, upset that _twice _he had been denied today, told to _leave._ He was beginning to boil over with grievous anger from it all.

Grell wasn't a pleasant grouch. And his anger tended to grow in gallons.

_Me? Leave? Who said you have power over me?_

A scowl adorned his face.

"Why should I?" he asked out in a yell, "What if I don't want to leave!"

"You _have_ to," Sebastian gave tersely. It sounded muffled to his sharp ears from the wood's weak echo.

Sebastian was confused.

Inside the manor, inside his mind, he kept wondering, just what was Grell doing? Why was he here now? What could he possibly want right _now_? The demon accepted that he needed Grell, that he loved him a little too much. 'Too much' because it affected him. It affected his _perfect persona_.

But he couldn't drop everything and act on his desires, on instinct.

Especially because of a whim of Grell's.

There were things he couldn't handle right now. Emotions were one of them. He wasn't used to feeling so much in such a short period of time. He wasn't used to sadness, nervousness, anxiety, _fear. _

Fear of losing someone.

Fear of pain.

He never felt afraid of pain, until now.

_It was a different kind of pain, one that he knew, somehow, wouldn't ever leave him_.

_He was still hurt about being forgotten. _

The demon swallowed a clump that formed in his throat. "Grell, don't do something stupid." _Don't act on a whim. Don't disappoint me with that. That's not what I want._

"Why do you think that I'm here on a whim?" A hard, resounding bang sounded from a strong, small fist impacting the hard surface. The anger kept piling up. _I'm not being stupid._

_Did he read my mind?_ the demon wondered, left thinking about a woman's famed intuition. A single bead of sweat trickled down his face. He was nervous.

From the outside, Grell was and angry at many things, one of them being _men _right now.

They were simply _impossible_ to communicate with, he learned today.

"I'm very distressed right now," Grell warned, "And maybe I just wanted to come here to…to _breathe! _Can I do that? Am I not allowed to do even _that_?"

"Being here because you want to _is_ a whim," wine colored eyes flashed a pink hue for an instant, dripping with hate. Hate for himself and speaking without thinking of his chosen words. He had begun to regret that natural wittiness with words he owned as a demon.

Grell, who was glaring daggers at the door, would _not_ take the remark well. Sebastian sighed, frustrated. It wasn't in his intention to offend the redheaded reaper.

Throwing alcohol at a burning fireplace only turned the flames violent and raging.

"Fine!" the fierce, rampant voice screeched. "I'm being _whimsical_. I'm being _impulsive._ And just _what_ is wrong with that?" Grell slammed his foot down with tension, maddened.

_Why are you two so impossible to talk to?! I know your pain! I know it very well… But not talking won't help, damn it! _

He held back a yell.

Yelling wasn't talking. And he wanted to talk. He wasn't about to go and turn all temperamental. Granted, he already was.

Grell eased his hands away from the door, before he damaged it further. His blood was boiling still, and his body shook with withheld rage.

So he took three deep breaths, figuring a way to calm down.

_That's right_, he started, _Just stop, and think. _

_Stop. _He closed his eyes.

_And think._ He breathed again.

The ire died down, taking away the surge of adrenaline that ran in his veins. As his heightened nerves settled and his eyes opened to the world again, sadness swelled deep in his breast.

There was a slight moistness mounting in his line of sight.

He didn't want to be pushed away. Not twice on the same day.

"I just wanted to see you," he breathed for the wind to take away.

Even with a thick wooden door between them, Sebastian could hear the whisper clearly, and the soft grieving tone it had. Whether if it was a lie, or the truth, the demon couldn't tell.

But he would keep himself detached. Sebastian had felt enough. Enough for now.

He didn't want to feel that terrorizing pain in his chest again.

"You can't," he almost strained, keeping his hands in a fist at his sides, "I promised myself that I would not interfere with your decision. So you can't."

That was what he kept telling himself as an excuse. To not feel pain.

Grell didn't interpret that excuse.

_Interfere? Interfere!? _he screamed again in his head, _You won't interfere in my decision! That is up to _me_, you fool! You won't interfere unless I _allow _it to interfere! _

_You can struck me, but that will not change my opinion! You can push me away, but I won't stop loving! It hurts, deep in my heart, but I won't change my feelings so quickly! If anything, I _need_ you to interfere! _

_How can I determine my love if you're far away? _

_How can I make up my mind if all I have are thoughts, and not actions? Memories, and not the present? _

_Why let _me _decide when it's obvious a greedy heart cannot pick!_

_How can you men be so…_irritating_! _

_So distant, so frigid. _

_I don't want to be closed off._

_It makes me feel lonely, it eats away at my sanity._

_It hurts._

No one likes to feel pain.

The wind whispered hoarsely with the shivering leaves around the mansion, scattering about without a purpose. Amidst his misery, Grell found nature to be a sympathetic creature, wallowing, like him, in appearance of sadness.

The bitter wind seemed appropriate.

"You don't know how much that hurts me, Sebastian," Grell shook at the door, pressing his small, but strong, hands against it.

_Why do you push me back, just like Will?_

Sebastian saw the mansion's doors quake from the jerk, even though the doors were locked tightly.

A deep part of him felt guilty, hearing Grell speak in that trembling, muted voice.

But another part felt angered.

Grell's feelings weren't the only ones that mattered. He permitted himself to feel insulted. For the sake of not feeling guilty, he preferred anger.

"Then maybe you should try putting yourself in _my _shoes," the raven-haired servant scowled, "_You _don't know how much it hurts _me _thinking that this could be our last conversation. You don't know how I feel."

Grell was left baffled for a second, mouth agape.

The anger came back.

"You don't know what _I _know, _or _how I feel, Sebastian." Grell glowered at the door, for he couldn't glare at the person behind it, "_You_ don't know how it feels to lose someone you love, to watch them change into something they're not. And _you _don't know how it feels like to live thinking that nothing could be done about it."

_You don't know how it feels like to be left alone in the dark. You don't know how it feels like to be broken by that person you love, and ask yourself why it turned out that way._ _You don't know how it feels to stay awake at night fearing when that person came back either._

Grell forced a kick on the bottom of the door, managing to crack the wood. It splintered horribly, leaving a small dent on the barrier that was the great double doors.

_You don't know anything about the sour side of love._

"But _I _know," he gestured at himself, "Don't assume things about a person."

Sebastian remained quiet on the other side.

The demon knew that his knowledge of the reaper was limited, scarce even. Especially of his past. But that wasn't why he went ahead and accused the redhead of not understanding him.

It wasn't like he was entirely angry at Grell.

He was angry at himself too.

_Because he was incompetent. _

Because Sebastian felt that he didn't deserve any of Grell's love anymore. _Of course_ he wanted it, but he didn't feel worthy of it. It felt useless, risky and wasteful.

Useless because Grell was a reaper. Risky because he was a demon. And wasteful because it couldn't possibly work between them.

All the sorrow, scorn and jealousy piled in his demonic soul. He was trying to cope with his emotions.

Grell could tell there was something deeper Sebastian was hiding. There was something else; it wasn't just 'interference'. And it wasn't just a turmoil of emotions.

It wasn't just a promise, or any anger, or any regrets. It wasn't just control, or disdain.

It wasn't just pain.

"Is it because you think I'm better off with William?"

A lifeless silence served as his answer. Answer enough for him.

It was sacrifice.

Pushing him away on purpose.

_They think the same. Putting up barriers where they're not needed…_

_Giving up because you think the other is better for me. _

Sebastian didn't want to cause Grell trouble. He didn't want to be a bother. He only wanted his love to be where he would be happiest.

He felt that with him, he wouldn't be happy.

_Could that have been why William pushed me away too? Because he felt inadequate? Undeserving? _

A drop of rain fell on his cheek.

Only when he wiped it with a shaky hand, he saw that it wasn't rain.

_He felt stupid for not realizing sooner. _

"I'm sorry for being selfish, Sebastian. It's not that I wanted to forget. I didn't want to forget about how you felt," a long, tired sigh left him, "I just wanted to forget a _little_, to be able to…sleep soundly."

_I don't ever want to forget what I mean to you, I'm just caught in a dead end if I do. _

The demon didn't respond. Grell found the silence heart-wrecking.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry."

His voice cracked, which Sebastian caught. Being behind the door, separated, was beginning to haunt him. He felt it, that urge to go out there and pet his little crying lady. He could smell it, the salty brim of tears pouring outside. _Should he…shouldn't he?_

His weak and worn out heart couldn't stand it anymore.

Snow white gloves pressed at the door, hesitantly slow. "Grell—," but it slammed back at him, pushed closed. The sound echoing.

"No!" he croaked out, "Don't open the door!"

The demon was puzzled, confused. Why couldn't he, now that his hands had worked the strength and bravery out? Was it too late to act? Had his chance come and gone?

There was a soft hiccupping sound outside, struggling to shape words between them.

"I don't want you to see me crying."

It gripped at his consciousness, thinking that his selfishness had hurt them, that Sebastian had felt used and tossed away. Because of him.

Grell was starting to remember.

Remember the dark, empty room where he was locked, alone, aching, tied to a bed. His body heated up and shivered in recognition; it felt weak and _foul_, sobbing uncontrollably with the world blurred, gray and murky under his fogged glasses and teary green eyes.

He conceived in his head, had Sebastian felt like him? So horribly forgotten? Had he felt alone, with no one to console him but himself? Lost and clueless? Trying to find a reason why?

It shook and gnawed in his chest, pounding and burning, _gripping_ him.

It had been so long since he had an attack.

His body couldn't handle it; everything, every raw feeling just kept coming back to haunt his mind.

He couldn't let Sebastian see him like this, bare and _weak_.

"I'm sorry," Grell said again, leaving the poor demon even more confused, in the dark.

What happened? Had he done something? Had he _said _something? What was wrong? What could he do?

But when he finally pushed the door open, breaking the boundary heavily kept between them, Grell was already gone.

_He couldn't know what Grell had thought, what he remembered, or that he, too, felt guilty. _

* * *

><p>The beautiful light posts scattered about in the streets below flickered in the night, just for a second. Though they were lit up by mere oil candles, the little flame never died out during their job, instead their wicker would burn completely just shy of sunrise.<p>

Such a wondrous, old technique was mesmerizing to watch from atop the Elizabeth Tower, which was becoming synonymous with 'Big Ben' nowadays. There, the orange glow that spilled from those light posts gave life to London, masking as the veins that litter the human body and pump blood through it.

The nighttime was much more flattering than day to the gray city of London. And Grell loved that about 'home'. It barely lived during the day, gray and dirty, but when night arrived, so did the colors.

The hot lights blessed to guide through the night, the versicolor women drifting in the streets, primed with laced dresses or revealing rags, the gorgeous rich carousels that occasionally appeared… The city transformed for just a few hours and became a fascinating second Paris.

He also loved heights. Everything seemed small and fleeting from above; it made all the big problems look so very tiny. He was like the sky, looking down and watching everything, disappearing from the world and just…there. Existing.

Time stopped just for him.

Even with the clock tower reminding him it never did. For anyone.

Rhythmically ticking, the giant famed clock tower stood with a rather strong wind blowing from the west, billowing the reaper's long hair up occasionally to resemble a winded candle. He had decided on sitting just at the edge of one of the makeshift windows above the figure of the clock, to hide from prying eyes. It was fairly wide, but Grell pressed in a slumped fashion against the left wall for unneeded support.

From behind, a creeping shadow sashayed over to the edge where Grell lied. "My, I wondered who it was that decided to steal my favorite sitting spot," a husky crazed voice rang, making the poor distracted redhead jump in place.

Grell gaped openly once he saw the perpetrator clearly with the help of the moonlight.

"U-Undertaker? What are you doing here?" Grell asked with a bit of a squeak. The man sure knew how to sneak up on people.

The eerie reaper took a second to hide his chuckles under his sleeve. "Oh, nothing m'dear, I just _love_ the sight of our beautiful land on a good Thursday!" For good measure, Undertaker swung his arms towards the sky in a loving gesture for the city below.

_Ah, that's right…it's Thursday._

Three days have come and gone since visiting the Phantomhive manor. He'd called in sick the next morning and went to the Big Ben, as he was right now, and just sat where he was currently with his legs dangling about.

For three days straight.

Time didn't stop for anyone, not once.

The ancient reaper took a seat with a flutter of gray and black clothes at Grell's right to enjoy the welcoming view. But since the red beauty before him leaned humbly upon the wall, Undertaker had more than enough space to drape his form as he wished. Of course, he was mindful of the lady's required personal space. The thoughtful mortician smiled brightly at his companion once Grell turned his head to acknowledge him.

It was better than being alone.

A few minutes passed with only the wind ushering a sound between them, nothing but two reapers with silky tresses watching a sea of lights. It was quite peaceful, actually.

"It's an odd thing, isn't it?" the Undertaker suddenly asked, turning to face the quiet, younger reaper.

Our mistress at the moment couldn't read through what the bizarre man, who smiled almost dumbly, meant by 'thing,' "What…is odd?"

An almost incredulous look crossed the elder's face instantly. Grell shrugged his shoulders in doubt on the matter, and Undertaker gave him one of his rare sighs, "Why, living is it not?"

"…Living?" Grell questioned back with a confused quirk, and a tilt of the head. "What is odd about 'living'?"

Really, the man was a riddle incarnate, and he acted like one too with that mysterious personality.

The Undertaker smiled a wide, toothy grin, almost laughing at the question. Whatever he was thinking must have been 'plain as day' to the elder of the two, and terribly lost to Grell. With a bit of fake-pity, Undertaker flashed another grin before giving the redhead a clue.

"The answer to that is everything, dearie!" _Then_ he outwardly laughed at Grell's instant frown. It was a cackling kind of laugh, not very heartwarming, at least to Grell it wasn't. It showed on his darkened eyes, he did _not_ find the old bat's laughter amusing.

The elder reaper noticed the hidden contempt directed at him and went quickly to fix the heavy atmosphere forming between them, "Now, now, I didn't mean to make a fool out of you, m'dear! Living is just an odd thing, I suppose."

Grell hadn't been truly angered at the man's peculiar ways, but it felt good to hear a sincere apology. He nodded twice to 'accept' the given apology and washed his hands on the matter. Undertaker just naturally had a dark, but mostly complex, sense of humor. Most confusing also.

"Well? Care to explain?" he challenged once more, rather curious of the strange man's way of thinking. Anyone would be, really, despite the uneasiness one gets around the mortician.

The Undertaker's hidden eyes sparkled with amusement; Grell was quite the responsive fellow, but then again, his choice of chat-worthy compatriots was corpses. Having an active talk was quite fun, and so he directed all of his attention to his new _live _friend.

"Why of course I'd be glad to! But first, let me ask you one thing, love. What do you think of the sky?"

"The sky?" He saw that the Undertaker was staring at him quite attentively, which made him just a tad bit uncomfortable. Most likely the man didn't know how awkward being stared at felt. "Well…it's dark right now, so I can't say much about it. But when the sun is out, it's very clear. A large blanket of blue, sometimes with clouds, sometimes with birds. And…when the sun rises or sets on the horizon, it's vibrant. Almost as if an angered artist decided to spill all of his precious paint on a wide canvas." He regarded the midnight-blue sky with one long gaze. "It's very pretty."

The Undertaker smiled widely at the words, "That's right. I think it's pretty sometimes too. But sometimes it's very ugly. Like during a storm. It just blurs with everything and endless rain falls. Rather depressing, isn't it?"

Grell nodded at that. Not too long ago, pregnant clouds rained down on London and flooded the streets with misers. One of those being himself. "Yes, storms are ugly."

"But even storms are beautiful, I say."

That caught some of the red reaper's thoughts. It made him wonder.

"Why do you think it's beautiful in its own way too?" Grell brought up, very curious.

"My, don't you know that after a storm comes clear-blue skies? That after the dark, frightening night comes a bright, beautiful morning? Behind those clouds there lies the sun waiting to shine down on the soft, battered soil, yes?" As he named one reason after another, his smile turned softer, before he faced the sky above them, painted black, "It's an odd thing, don't you think?"

This time around, the younger shinigami smiled with him, a very small smile, and giving a soft laugh himself, "I see. I understand now. You're very wise under all that formaldehyde, aren't you?"

A barking cackle sounded with glee out into the darkness that was the wind before them, "Why thank you! So will you mind telling me what's bothering you this fine night as a reward?"

"If you promise to stop answering with questions, I will," Grell winked, some of that forgotten perkiness coming back thanks to the old reaper's excited nature.

A smirk formed on his pale lips, "Promise…you say?"

He received a fast smack at the chest for that, "Yes! Stop it!" Grell yelled with a chuckle, not the least bit mad. There was something about the Undertaker that made it impossible to be completely angry with him. Maybe it was that ever-present smile. And it also felt good to laugh, truly laugh, after such a long time.

It might not have been 'such a long time' ago since Grell laughed, but it surely felt like years since he found something worth laughing for.

It was nice.

"Alright, no need to get violent!" he snickered out, overjoyed with his successful teasing. The battle-scarred shinigami patted the other's back, careful of his long, black talons. "At least you're happy again."

"Hm? What do you mean?" Another strong wind settled around them and his bloody hair few right into Undertaker's face, who squawked in surprise. Long, tangling locks of red rippled with ferocity, and some silver ones busted into the festivity too, thanks to the nasty wind. Grell was also blinded by red, but found it much funnier than the previous times, when he was alone. "S-sorry, I have no control of the wind."

"T-that's just fine, dearie!" he sang chocked with laughter, pulling at his own hairs. Miraculously, none of the bangs covering his green eyes were affected by the wind, "And I meant that you looked rather miserable, is all. Did something happen after I hopped off of your windowsill?"

"Ah," Grell looked towards the wind while holding his hair to keep it down, which in turn meant he turned away from the Undertaker. "Not really…"

"Don't lie to me now, sweetie, and look me in the fringes," he called out, tapping Grell's shoulders with one long fingernail while his other hand pointed at where his eyes should be, always shrouded by silver tresses. Deciding to follow instructions, since his senior _did_ deserve respect, Grell turned back to face the Undertaker with a childlike frown. It looked more like a pout to the older shinigami. "Now, now. You can trust me. I only want to help give you back your smile."

He watched the little redhead battle it out in his head whether he should tell him or not. The Undertaker pondered with a quirky slight frown just what it was that his pretty head was having difficulty speaking about, but then again, he had a pretty good guess.

"Does it involve the butler?" He caught Grell give him a sudden wide-eyed stare. "Ah, I'm correct?"

"Yes…but I don't know if I can talk to you about it," he murmured, "But, if you're willing to listen…"

The ashen reaper smiled warmly at him, "I'm listening."

Grell noted in the back of his head that Ronald also needed a good explanation.

"…Then…you know that Sebas-chan and I have been in a relationship of sorts for a while, right? Well…around the end of May, that Phantombrat—I mean, Phantom_hive__—_had a nice ball and I, well, I was more than happy to show up all dressed up of course! Sebby was a flattering beast, that demon, giving me this necklace," he paused to shuffle out the ruby-studded necklace out from its hiding spot and show it to the ex-reaper, who whistled at the quality of the gems.

"I can feel just a tad bit of his demonic soul in it too," the Undertaker commented.

"Yes, he _did_ say that he made it himself with a bit of his being," he stopped to hide it back under his collar, and blushed thinking about the later activities that happened, "And it was a fun evening too."

"You mean you had sex?" He noticed Grell blanch at his words and opted for correcting himself, "…Deepened your relationship?"

"Ehm…yes…we did…" Grell couldn't help the blush on his face at Undertaker's bluntness, "But, you see, after we parted ways the next day, and I returned to work…some complications started…"

"Did little Willy finally confess?" He noticed Grell blanch again and opted for explaining himself, "…Really dear, I could sniff it from a mile away. The boy may be _glacier _cold, but I know he's a pleasant snowstorm around you. And I know that from my constant sneaking around, before you ask."

The blush possessing his cheeks deepened at the comment, "…Well…you're right. He did, and I was really happy—"

"But you remembered the butler and—"

"Who is telling the story here!" He yelled at the chatty Undertaker, who shrunk back with a bit of a giggle. His voice was loud enough to echo back in the night, they noticed, and Grell felt further embarrassed with himself. The overjoyed Undertaker apologized and silently promised to keep quiet, which Grell didn't believe, "…Okay, then. Just listen, you bag of corpses.

"So you see, we started with dinners. I'd just drag him over to a popular restaurant in London and we'd chat. It was really nice. He started warming up to me. And sometimes he would invite me over to his living quarters because he was cooking that day. Will said it was to save money, but I know it was his way of inviting me over. He's really shy, you know. And…a great kisser too."

"I'm guessing he's a great lover too," Undertaker voiced, and got a hard, deadly glare, "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I promise to stay quiet from now on. Truly."

With a new rosy blush, he continued, "Alright, you make a good point… We went that far and I felt really guilty about it. Which made me feel even _more_ guilty…but I just couldn't tell Will about Sebas-chan, and when the time came to meet up with Sebby, I couldn't tell him either! And…then we came across Will in the streets, and Sebas-chan just blurted it out without a care. It all got worse. They were not pleased, and I can't blame them. I dragged them along because I love both of them, and now I have to decide who I want to be with! They both agreed on it, and gave me a week. Thatwas_six_days ago," Grell rushed out without a moment's notice, and oblivious of it too.

"Oh dear, and you still don't have an answer?" The elder reaper, very daringly, added after the sudden boost in Grell's talking speed. Good heavens, good thing he paid attention.

"No, I _don't_!" Grell shamefully drawled out, each word aching, "I don't even know if I can handle it! It's weighing on me, just how important this is to them _and_ me. I might actually _lose_ one of them forever, or end up _**killing**_ one of them indirectly! They're really determined to kill each other, I can feel it. And it's all _my_ fault."

Undertaker pondered with a hum on the words, even watching how the red reaper had started to grumble and sigh in defeat. _So he couldn't decide, eh?_ He kept his chuckles to himself, for the dear lady's respect. He understood that Grell felt responsible for the whole ordeal, which was true, but it all lead to some unwanted negative thoughts and strong aversion. Grell hated it, and himself, that much he could tell.

But then, that's why he was here. To lend a hand. Offer advice.

"With all due respect, you have a terrible taste for the jealous type, sweetheart." Regrettably, the words came out a bit too seriously along the way, which, oddly, caused Grell to snicker loudly. He hoped it was because Grell found it funny, "M'dear, before I give you my advice, do you want to know how shinigami and demons are similar? I think it would shed some light for you."

He blinked. "I thought we were immortal enemies."

The wind decided to pick up at that moment and they both had to grasp their lion's manes before another scalp-accident happened. With a spit of a stray silver lock, Undertaker found the situation grin-worthy. "Just because we're supposed to hate each other, doesn't mean we're not alike. Now, how do you think our kind and theirs are similar?"

The flustered reaper tried hard, thinking of a good trait, but the only one that formed in his head was the obvious one. "Well…I think…we are similar in the way that…we depend on human souls? Demons _have _to eat souls to live, and…reapers _need _the souls for their revision and judgment…" In fear of being wrong, Grell timidly trailed off and waited for the Undertaker to talk again. Thankfully, the wind fell to a gentle breeze and they could both relax again.

Petting down his rumpled tresses, the ghastly-gray shinigami sang a cute little tune, "Oh, that's what they teach in the academy." He quickly added after the tune's end, and settled in his makeshift seat with a smile. "They never tell the truth, those old fuddy-duddies. I'm sure you've learned though, fighting them."

Grell too combed his hair with his fingers. The first wind had messed enough, and now red strands shot from everywhere. He had heard Undertaker's comment on the academy, but he still didn't quite get it. If it wasn't that, then what? Once it was all set and arranged, he sat still, waiting for the man to continue. The silence, interrupted only by a faraway whistle of the breeze, began to feel awkward, "…Well?"

"Ah, my apologizes, I went for a dramatic pause."

Visible beads of sweat came into view at Grell's left temple. He was talking to a _child!_ Who was older than him by _centuries!_ "Will you be serious for once!"

Undertaker snorted a little; a cackle caught in his throat. "Oh, but this is my way of being serious, m'lady! Now, now, as I was saying…" A delicate black nail pecked at his pale, scarred skin, "You don't see it when you fight? With little butler?"

Undertaker waited as his company thought it over, and tinkered with his red-chained glasses absentmindedly. Grell was a smart fellow, and Undertaker knew that, but it was taboo subjects like demons that left him in the dark. The Higher-Ups were being ridiculous, keeping traditions like those. How else are they to defend themselves of dangerous demons if they know close to nothing about them?

But Grell was smart. Much smarter and clever than most reapers.

"Is it…No, forget it," Grell blabbered regretfully, but Undertaker waved him to continue still, "Alright…well…I was going to say that the way Sebas-chan is dedicated to his '_work'_ is similar to Will's. I was thinking it was rather meticulous and…absolute. As in, they'll do anything to reach their goal…?"

The aged reaper hummed, "You know, I hadn't thought about it like that, but I suppose that's somewhere in my point."

Grell pouted, "Then what is it?" Contrary to his bitter frown, Undertaker smiled fully.

"We are heartless, love."

_Heartless?_

The gray-robed shinigami perked up for a second, "Ah, my mistake! I should say that we _must_ be heartless. We _do _own hearts after all."

Grell curiously tilted his head to one side and regarded his greater senior with a long, slightly confused, stare. Though before he could ask, the Undertaker shushed him and explained himself.

"Hold your horses, dearie, I'm not done yet. Be patient." Grell pouted, but complied nonetheless.

"I'm sure you know by now that in the Academy, they teach you that being professional and impartial in everything is key. You cannot be outgoing. You cannot let your emotions judge for you. You cannot even _smile_, dear. They work it in your head, since the very beginning, that shoving away your emotions is good and _must_ be done. And I'm guessing that's why every one of your co-workers is completely and utterly 'dead'. A sort of 'no-nonsense' feel. Though, I see in you that rebellious spirit, and even your little blond subordinate too. I'm very glad for that!"

He gave a warm, cheerful smile to the redhead then, "Now, how do you think demons would work if _they _let their emotions take over? We may think that all they do is 'submit to their carnal desires,' but really, that's rubbish. I have yet to see one gluttonous, one moronic, senseless demon. Why do you think the human race still exists? If they really wanted to, they would have eaten them all, the poor flesh bodies.

"Think about it like this: if the butler grew empathetic towards little Earl, do you think he would be able to eat him? It is the same principle that applies to us. If any ordinary reaper felt empathy to any human, would we have _any _cinematic records? No, we wouldn't. We all have to watch ourselves from making those sorts of mistakes. That is why Michaelis seems like a dedicated demon, and why Will won't accept anything but the best. We all remain impassive and observant, always keeping ourselves at bay. No one in this game canlose to their emotions."

One dust-matted sleeve rose up to gesture at the heavens, "Anger, lust, jealousy, fear, love…what would happen to _either_ of our kind if we showed them, dear?"

Grell remained quiet, the rhetorichanging between them deep in his thoughts.

So that was it, he wondered, that was why it was so important to follow the rules? The reality felt both idiotic and genius; idiotic because it's impossible to kill off every single emotion, and genius, well, because Undertaker was right. It would do the world no good.

The wind returned to the tower, icy and brief with none of the summer's warmth.

Grell found this all very depressing.

"Immortality kills us all, doesn't it?" His soft-spoken tenor voice rang pleasantly in this light, cold gale.

The dark mortician nodded, agreeing completely, "Yes, it does."

With this new understanding, they stayed in silent, mutual sensibility, watching as the city moved and breathed. Long ago, Undertaker had thought like any other reaper, which was what he now called 'wrongly,' living only to live and breathing only to breathe. There wasn't any other reason but the souls: work for the souls, to gather the souls, to save the souls. Nothing else mattered. Everything else was useless.

But all it took was one painful experience to make him realize the real rules of eternity, and living with it. He also learned that it couldn't be fixed. That was how it was, monotonous, forever. That was how it should be, or _should_ have been. He alone stood with the truth that shouldn't be told.

Well, now they were two.

It takes a little madness to live with a smile after all, why not share it?

All of his thinking brought back to his messed up, broken mind that they weren't finished talking just yet. Better to speak in riddles again. They were frustratingly fun!

Taking his sights off of the beautifully constructed city, Undertaker grinned a dainty grin towards Grell. "Sweetling, do you know how a shinigami is made?"

A pause. "From a human soul, if I'm correct," the redhead said, a bit doubtful of his answer with all that he's learned. From the looks of it, he had been correct; the Undertaker was beaming a large smile.

"Yes, taken from an excellent soul and molded to that of a reaper. And how do you think demons are made?"

This time, he could manage the old man's desired answer. All Grell needed to do was a small process of elimination. If reapers are the soul, then demons are the body, no? "From the human's flesh."

Undertaker was quite pleased with that, if his ever-growing grin gave any hint, "Quite right, love! Demons are the soulless leftover bodies of a human being who wishes, desires and _curses _to continue living. It can't just be _any _body after all. If not, we'd have thousands of demons teeming around." The elder reaper paused with a thoughtful frown, which surprised Grell greatly, since just a second before he had a huge grin.

"Although…I've heard of instances where demons are made, even _with_ a soul in their body…oh, but those are far and few," Undertaker waved off the idea, but Grell found the new revelation interesting. Demons with human souls? It sounded remarkably silly to him, now that he thought about it. However silly though, it would be interesting to see. Would they act differently? Would they know they had a soul?

He had been so distracted on the idea that he missed what the Undertaker said.

"I-I'm sorry?" he tried, an apologetic smile grazing his lips.

"Ah, m'dear, were you distracted? I was just wondering out loud, don't you think that we each lose something in the process? Demons and reapers, I mean."

It was an understatement saying that the Undertaker was enjoying himself. He was _intoxicated_ with his withheld laughter. Beating around the bush, stimulating the brain, lollygagging on top of the city, all coupled with his sluggish and persisting voice. They were all things the mortician loved to do. And glancing at his red-loving company, who was rather heated with the twist of his words, he could tell that they both felt the same.

Grell was great company.

"According to what you've said, yes. Does that mean that we are meant to complement each other? Since we miss what the other has."

He was also a knowledge seeker, from what the mortician saw.

"Actually, I think it separates us _more_. One goes left, and one goes right, I would say. Just because water and oil complement each other cooking, it doesn't mean they get along."

Grell showed a bit of disappointment, "Oh."

"My, my, don't feel sad about it, dear! You might just be a little bit denser than oil is all!"

"…I'm sorry?" the redhead asked, puzzled by what the old bag of gray tones said.

Undertaker actually gasped, rather comically, "Why, I just wanted to say cleverly that you'd be neither oil nor water, but a new layer in between. You're much too colorful to be _classic_ oil, and you're not ever-changing, like water. 'Oil' never changes. 'Water' is always agitating. I think you're a complementary blend."

"Oh…" a blush dusted his cheeks, "Then thank you. I _am _the exception to every rule."

As per usual, the Undertaker chuckled to himself, "You know, I think that it is rather wonderful that you can awaken such a clamorous choir of emotions in a 'well-bred' reaper like Spears!" he added with a tap of a heel against the tower's wall, "So much so with dear butler, 'Michaelis'. Once you lose the capability to feel, it usually never comes back." He pecked at the reaper's nose with one black nail, "You are a tantalizing sort of soul, Grell. Do not feel bad about yourself."

Grell fidgeted under the pressure of the nail, rather flushed with the compliment. _Tantalizing, _he thought,_ I'm tantalizing? N-no no, I'm not that great. I wouldn't say my soul is anything important… _

"Actually, it's quite refreshing to see someone of my own kind who feels so strongly about so many things!" the Undertaker continued, not realizing Grell's ungenerous mental bout, "I think that's why you are cut off, in a way, from the others! They don't understand you, and they never will. Only someone that can feel will understand. You can tell sometimes, right?"

"…Tell what?" He only caught the end of it, which embarrassed him.

"Why, when someone is like you! You feel out of place, I'm sure, in the Shinigami Realm. That is why you love the Human World so much. In here, you can just _feel. _You can let go, and just be yourself."

_I think so too. Maybe that's why I can talk to you and actually listen. _

For a second, the Undertaker almost jumped, remembering what he had originally meant to ask. He regarded Grell with one pressing look, which worked fairly enough to catch the young reaper's attention.

"I want to ask you something important now. But you have to promise to answer honestly, alright dearie?"

A bit confused, Grell nodded to the man. He could tell that the atmosphere between them became a little serious, not like the soft, easygoing feel he was getting before from the Undertaker.

"Tell me, why do you love William?"

He had meant to help Grell get his feelings straight. How could he forget? He must have gotten a little too into their interesting chat. The cloaked reaper certainly bombarded Grell with enough information.

Grell, though, found the pace just fine. Now that he had enough time talking to Undertaker, he found explaining his feelings much easier.

He began with a small smile. It was great having someone to talk to.

"Well…from the beginning, it was because he was strong," Grell leaned back on his side where the wall was, "He was the first to beat me, _literally_, you see. Will was always so cold, but that personality that I could feel in him, being _determined_… I think that's what I fell in love with. His _presence_. It was always so overpowering. And _no one_ has ever made me think that way, that someone could be strong with just a stance, a glance, a _breath_. And he wasn't just strong, physically, I mean… He just…is."

He was rather confused himself with that. Grell knew that in terms of physical power, he won against _everyone_ in the dispatch, possibly the entire London division. But when William entered the equation, even if he was much stronger, the taller reaper would outmatch him. Always. Everything about him would.

William was just strong. That was his only explanation. Whether with a hand or with a stare, he was just strong.

"And…with every year, there was something more," he stared again, and the Undertaker followed, "It would be his eyes one day, and the next his voice, or his mouth, or his skin, his thoughts, his hair, his…his everything! It was all just so fascinating! I wanted to know more and more, until nothing was left to know! I wanted him to see me, to _show _me, to _face_ me… But, he always kept me at an arms distance. It hurt I guess. I hurt because I wanted to be accepted. By anyone, really, I have to admit. I know that much about myself. I want someone to accept me completely inside and out… I'm a terribly lonely person, and I never want to be alone…

Undertaker recalled that one time long ago when he heard of an odd case. It involved Grell, and one other reaper, who ended up in the psycho facility, as he dubbed it. A rather nasty case too. Being locked away for two weeks without food, water and light. But most of all, without love and affection.

He could tell it left a lasting emotional scar. It was logical that it was the reason for his distraught 'filling-the-void' behavior. And one subconscious acting variable to his search for love and acceptance.

To Undertaker, it might also be a reason as to why Grell has a hard time trusting others and letting them into his personal bubble. To talk about his personal life even with people he trusts.

Grell was taking a big step talking to him about his thoughts and problems, the older reaper thought.

The redhead was oblivious to anything the Undertaker might have been thinking. He only kept talking about what he thought he should say. He wouldn't lie to himself, it felt good taking all of that weight off of his shoulders.

"I always wanted that person to be Will, the one to accept me I mean," he continued, "I think that's why I never bothered for anyone else. But I also think that's why Will never let it happen; he didn't want to raise my hopes. But, I mean—he's such an idiot! He held back his feelings because 'they are troublesome and unnecessary,' all the time! …But I think now I understand, thanks to you. It's something that couldn't be helped. 'Emotions are bad'. 'Feeling is bad'. Sometimes they are…but not always. And I know he would feel too, because sometimes he would be nice. Sometimes he would worry about me, and fret that I was being a lazy bum. He would work me to the bone and always keep an eye on me. Like a nagging mother hen. I could feel it sometimes, that he cared about me, even if he never said it. That he _loved _me… Even if he never said it, but I would stick with that idea that he might… It kept me going, that warm thought, that someday it would happen.

His smile grew solemn, and his glass-covered eyes stared down at the city with the yellow lights reflecting on them, "And it did…it just happened at the wrong time."

Undertaker gave him a sympathetic look, brushing some stray red locks away from Grell's brooding face. He understood how hard it must be. He finally had what he wanted, twofold. And he couldn't even be happy about it.

"He really lives up to his name, don't you think? The 'resolute protector' for you."

Grell chuckled at that. It was muted, but he did. It was rather funny to him how William's name meat just that, a protector. "A bit of a double-edged _shield_ I'd say, always bonking me over the head!"

"You have a pleasant maiden's blush too," the Undertaker brought up, glancing at the flaming cheeks with a withheld laugh.

"S-shut up! I can't help it!" Grell barked, growing redder.

Ah, such was his joy, making others feel embarrassed. Other than seeing scared expressions and laughing his lungs off. Undertaker was pleased with himself. "Now, now," he tried, feeling a bit guilty for Grell had started to frown, still red, "This is just between us. But now that you've cleared your head, tell me, why do you love Sebastian?"

He paused in his thoughts to will the blush away, and cleared his throat before delving on. Glancing to the crazed reaper, Grell saw that he too had composed himself enough to pay attention once more. That gave him a bit of confidence to continue.

"Well, I _must _admit that in the beginning, it was purely physical. Infatuation over a handsome face; chivalrous in nature, grotesque personality when directed at myself… I wasn't really very serious. I just needed _something_, love most of all. I knew that Sebby would never return my feelings, but I still tried. It's my charm, persistence for naught!" Fist heavily raised to the wind, Grell puffed his cheeks enough to be comical. Undertaker chuckled at the declaration and the pose the redhead held while they sat. True it was that Grell persisted even if nothing was to be gained.

"You could image my surprise when he confessed that 'I was actually appealing'," Grell added, hands now gathered at his center and toying meekly with his long hair, "Believe me, that was like declaring I was Aphrodite in the flesh from a demon," quite the exaggeration, he also posed his hands in a yearning form to the moon, to exemplify his words.

"But he was so very adorable when he said it too! He found, at first, interest in me. I couldn't really believe that. And oh, so, very subtly, he would watch me, and sometimes hint of wanting to know just how I worked. It slowly grew into an obsession of him, to find out just what it was that I thought, that I felt, what I did… He never quite voiced it though. Sebas-chan was…he was like me when I first started crushing on William. He wanted to figure me out. But secretly. I can't quite recall just when it was that I truly felt love, but I knew that it happened, because I _wanted _to know about him too.

"Love is just a funny thing; you don't know when it starts, I suppose, but you know when all you think about is that other person." Grell lifted his head and stared at the moon above them, "And when you do…that's all you need. It happened to Sebas-chan, and it happened to me. The most incredible part about it was that it was reciprocal. I loved him, and he loved me back, which made me love him even _more. _I was so happy…I forgot about everything. I didn't care anymore. I didn't _want _to care anymore. I just wanted to be loved and love in return. That 'honeymoon bliss' that happens when everything is perfect…

"And when William finally confessed…I found myself confused…"

Grell furrowed his brow and hung his head once more. _When William confessed, I didn't know…_

"You didn't know if it was real love in the first place with the butler, or if you could return Willy's feelings…is that what you asked yourself?"

For just a moment, he wondered if the man could read minds. Grell fidgeted more with his brightened tresses as the Undertaker scooted a little closer.

All of the night's clouds had moved away and beyond, and the waxing moon above shined brighter, giving the dark woods below a bluish hue. The city itself remained unaffected, orange and bright as it was before. "I-I guess…I don't know…"

The Undertaker smiled at him, not as cynical as always, but still much warmer than the times before, "Then that's why you're confused."

"Hm?" He saw that Grell had gone off into his own world while he played with his red hair.

"That's why you couldn't choose," the elder reaper tried differently. At least he wasn't the only one who got distracted easily.

Saddened, Grell felt confused with what the gray madman meant, "What do you mean?"

"You keep delving in the past," Undertaker answered, "You know what they feel for you, and you just confirmed what you felt for them, right?"

Grell was still confused. Had he missed something? "Yes…?"

"Yes. You don't have any doubts." The Undertaker laid back on his side of the wall with his legs hooked over Grell's own, which startled the poor red mistress. He crossed his arms behind his silver head and smiled brightly at his guest, "You know who you love," he chirped.

"W-who do I love then?"

He was still very confused.

If his patience was tested, the Undertaker didn't show. He kept his cool, mirthful face on, even yelling the next bit with humor ringing in his voice. Wide smile ever-present.

"You love both of them, dear!" he almost cackled, "Didn't you just hear yourself?"

"B-but I can't just love both—"

"Now who told you that?" the shadowed elder reaper asked with a bit of seriousness in his tone, "Who says you can't _love _more than one person?"

Grell though couldn't reason with him. Wasn't the whole point of this to make a _single _decision, to make up his mind? If he's told that loving both of them was fine, then what difference did it make from before?

The Undertaker continued despite the obvious mistrust shining in the red lady's eyes. "It doesn't matter if it's one, two, or twenty people. Love is love and you can't do anything about it. Love isn't picky, it's just love. Do you understand?"

Perhaps the experienced shinigami had been thinking differently from him.

Grell was much more preoccupied thinking in terms of _who do I love_. Undertaker thought backwards. Instead of _do, _he thought _don't. _Who _don't _you love? Who can _limit _your love? How can _you _limit your love?

Instead of canyou _choose, _can you _reject_?

"Then…what should I do?"

Between them, the soft wind blew, filled with a much warmer, humid feel. Comfortably stretched legs atop Grell's own warmed his cooled thighs. It was an awkward, strange approach, but Grell somehow knew that the Undertaker had meant to warm him a bit without being too close. His cheeks reddened slightly, thinking that it was kind of him.

Undertaker leaned his head back against his arms higher, looking at the glistening moon become shielded by a large cloud. "You _know_ what you should do, sweetheart. And if I know you, and perhaps I don't, you might just be playing dumb with yourself."

Grell too stared up at the darkened sky, the moon now hidden from view. "…But what about them? What can I say to them then? They really will _kill _each other. What if I can never see them face to face? What if I ruin something perfect that could never be fixed?"

A moment of silence ushered in, from Grell in grave worry, and from the Undertaker staring up at the once-more cloudy skies.

Grell once feared saying the truth, the truth that might have hurt both Sebastian and William. Then he feared making the wrong choice. The wrong choice that could hurt Sebastian and William. And now, now he feared that no matter what he did, he would still hurt Sebastian and William.

Whichever way he went, pain would come.

He feared feeling pain, and causing the same pain on people he cared for.

"The skies are dark now, you know. But will they stay that way forever? No, morning will eventually come, dear." Grell lowered his tired eyes from the clouds and faced the Undertaker and his words. From a parted silver fringe, he could faintly tell a green glint in the dark that was the wise reaper's eye.

"Forever doesn't exist. And neither does 'perfect'," the eye became engulfed in gray once more at a tilt of his neck, "Living is odd, that's all. But you do what everything that lives does: breathe. Time heals all wounds.

"As for your monkeys, the only thing I could say is, sometimes men need to let it all out in a good fist-fight. It's the only way we can understand each other, getting a good punch. The determination, anger, fear, strength, and even love can be poured into it. Like holding your heart in your hand, in a way."

The passing cloud misting the moon sashayed with the wind, eventually dissipating enough to let its light shine down once more as the dimming cloud moved away, over to other skies.

_Forever doesn't exist. _

Grell thought on it over and over. It calmed him, thinking that, yes, it was true.

There was a time when he hated blonds, when he was shy and weak. When he thought a large scythe was useless and flashy. When long hair was a bother, or when demons were just an obstacle to be eliminated.

There was a time when he thought he would never be loved.

Now he has friends, a perky blond one too. He's much more outgoing and loud than ever. He even has a _chainsaw _deathscythe for Pete's sake. Women are jealousof his long silky locks, and he's proud of it too.

And he has not one, but _two_ sweethearts in his life, and one of them being a demon.

It brings a smile to his lips, thinking that things never stay the same. Maybe this, too, was good; all the heartache. What could he tell now? Who could tell what the future brings?

A greater smile grazes the Undertaker, seeing that his red company was smiling. He had said the right words, it seemed, to bring such an honest expression out of his glum friend… Could he call Grell a friend? Well, considering all that has happened in the last couple of hours, yes, he could. He made a new friend today.

Undertaker smiled brighter.

Some stray thought wiggled inside Grell's pleased head, and he frowned for a second. "Say, Undertaker, why did you desert from being a shinigami? You seem like a nice fellow. A little odd, maybe, but perfectly fine."

A strange look crossed the aged corpse handler. His smile disappeared for just a moment, before coming back in an odd, lopsided way.

A crooked grin, on a scarred, ghastly face. It sparked a frightening feeling in him.

"Let's just say that people who _feel_ will always be detached from those who don't. And powerful, emotional minds are dangerous in an ordered, unchanging system."

Grell wondered for a second if, in his own way, the lone deserter was warning him.

* * *

><p>Despite being two in the morning, deaths never stopped tolling in the Human world. So with a careful scurry, the missing, red-coated reaper slithered into the building looking for his sleeping quarters.<p>

He was trying to be as quiet as possible, lest there be a sleepless mind somewhere awake, or returning from work to find rest. He even removed his dirtied heels in case his shoes echoed down the hallways, like they tended to do.

In a matter of minutes, he found himself at his door, with a surprise waiting for him there. Quite a surprise too.

Apparently while he was down in the human world wasting away time, Ronald had worried about him and his sudden disappearance. Granted, he vanished quite frequently, but never with a promised meeting with someone planned. If Grell disappeared, it was because he had no plans.

But he _had _made plans to meet up with Ronald, so naturally the boy worried and fretted much more than usual. Surely the blond heard that he had called in sick, and so visited his humble abode to make sure.

Figuring him not to be home, the little worrywart waited outside his door until he came back.

He was currently asleep outside his door, with the cutest little bit of drool on his chin.

Grell found the scene worthy to remember. He just looked so _cute _bundled up against his door with his head bobbing slightly and his arms wrapped around his legs for warmth.

"Hey, Ronnie," he bent down on his flat soles, red heels in hand, and shook his sleeping friend's shoulders with his free hand, "Wake up."

After a few shakes, Ronald stirred from his sleep with a frown, "…Hm…?"

"Ron, it's me."

Gloves still on, —the poor young'un fell asleep in his work clothes— he wearily wiped his eyes in a dull daze. The woken reaper grunted as he stretched his stiff limbs out before grabbing his glasses from their hung spot at the front of his shirt. "Grell…?" he yawned while putting his glasses back on, "Oh, Grell!"

At the realization, he practically jumped to his feet, wide-eyed and ready to scold his redheaded senior, if it wasn't for Grell clamping his mouth shut with his palms. His protests were muffled under the leather gloves.

"Shh," Grell started, "People are sleeping."

Ronald stopped trying to shake him off, thinking about it. He wouldn't want to cause a scene in the middle of the night. So he grudgingly agreed to be quiet with a nod.

Grell, deeming it fine for now, released his friend's face with a hushed apology.

"What are you doing here so late?" the blond whispered once he could.

The drained redhead huffed, "I should ask you the same question."

"I wanted to make sure you came back. And I would be the first to yell at you for disappearing for three days. What's wrong with you!" Ronald countered, quietly, with a hard enough punch to Grell's shoulder. It was hard enough to push the poor guy back with all the fatigue he had.

"A lot of things, but that's not why I ran off on you," Grell strained out with a bit of pain in his voice. Ronald took the opportunity, now rather pleased to have taken some of his stress off of his shoulders and onto Grell's now newly-injured one, to fully stand on his toes and stretch his stiffened back. A few pops left his bones while Grell nursed his unwelcomed injury with a scowl.

Really, it was two in the morning, a little too early to be roughhousing.

"Sorry," Grell began again once the pain faded, "I just needed to cool my head."

"…For three days?" There was more annoyance in his voice this time. Ronald wasn't exactly a morning person, nor a patient one. And being woken up two hours after midnight by the same person he had been worrying about like nothing happened was more than enough to aggravate him.

"Again, sorry! But I promised to tell you about what was worrying me, and I will."

The 'teen' huffed, finding his friend's weak apology lacking. But then, he was here, and that's what mattered, even if it _was _before dawn arrived. Grell was fine and, he dared to think that he looked refreshed. Different.

"You look better."

Grell was about to rush out the reason for his sudden 'leave' so that he could explain what it was that had been plaguing him for days, but then Ronald cut him off with a meek, little sentence, "I'm sorry?" he had to ask, a bit caught off-guard.

"I said, you look better," the bloke repeated a little louder, which got him shushed again by his senior. He continued in a quieter tone, "A lot better than you have in a while I mean."

_Oh._ Grell almost blushed in his fatigued excitement. _I guess I'm still a bit happy from the chat. _

He offered a smile, which Ronald returned just as brightly, "I know. Now come in. I'm just going to let you sleep in this time because you'll probably wake up everybody on your way back to your room."

"Okay."

Digging into his pocket, Grell fished through for his keys until coming across them and finally opening the door to his sweet, humble abode. Red and lovely as always. Dearly missed too.

"Hey, thanks," Ronald spoke after Grell had closed the door.

The senior of the two gave a questioning look. "For what?"

The brunette-blond only smiled, "For trusting me."

Grell chuckled to himself over his favorite subordinate's pure-heartedness. He pointed at the velvety couch for them to sit on while he walked over to his bedroom, "Thank me when I'm done talking."

Ronald sat comfortably on the red sofa while he waited for his host to come back. "And you better be quiet about this!" he heard yelled at from the other room, which made him laugh. Wasn't _he_ the one that told him to watch the volume of his voice? Really, words can be so convenient.

He had to shake his head with a mixture of amusement and hopelessness at Grell's antics.

"I will," he answered loud enough to be heard in the other room, but not loud enough for the neighboring reaper's to wake to.

Sometime later, possibly a bath from the water he heard running earlier, Ronald saw his feminine company return dressed in a rather average set of nightclothes and some clothes held in his hands. All was red, of course. And from what he could tell, the extra pair of nightclothes was for him. Since he was staying, it made sense.

"Oh, one more thing," Grell said once he crossed over to the makeshift kitchen in the living room.

Ronald turned over to see what it was that Grell decided to make, "What?"

He heard the clinking sound of pots being pulled out of their resting spot, and some curiosity sparked in him to stand up and see for himself.

Just then, Grell decided to turn around sporting a cheeky grin, and showing two mugs at each hand, empty at the moment but promising a hot drink.

"Would you like some coffee? Because we're gonna stay up a long while." He teetered on tip toes, searching for the grounded seeds inside a top cabinet, humming some odd dark tune Ronald never heard before. Possibly something taken from the Undertaker, not that the blond would know.

Despite his growing tiredness, he was finally going to dig up the grave on Grell's graveyard of secrets, and how could he possibly miss the chance and risk falling asleep? Hell, it was highly likely that they would stay up talking anyway. Bring on the coffee!

With all that in mind, Ronald smiled, ecstatic to waste away the night doing nothing more than listening to whatever it was that his friend was about to throw at him.

"Just a question," he said, helping heat water while the redhead made the brewing preparations. All Grell did was turn and raise an eyebrow in his direction.

"Where's the sugar?"

* * *

><p><em>AN: Ah…soft ending for now, but I hope you're ready to wait for the next chapter! Again, I cannot apologize for lateness. I hate Autumn… (I have nothing against the season, it just always cramps up my life. Always.) /headdesk. I hope I can get the next one done by Christmas. _

_On that note, Happy Thanksgiving! _


	13. Feral Dogs

_N/A: I hope you enjoyed Christmas~! :D_

_I couldn't update on Christmas because it was family time, and the chapter wasn't finished by then. And I…I couldn't write dialog! (whyy…) I needed the perfect words…but I think I found them!_

**Warning**: There will be blood and mild descriptions of it. Enjoy the soft gore~.

* * *

><p>It was dark in the narrow streetway. Lifeless except for the insects and rats crawling and creeping around the edges of the apartment walls. A few spider webs hung in dusty corners, with trembling insects trapped along the threads, waiting to be devoured.<p>

East End was infamous for its horrible living conditions, crowded with the poor and littering with homeless folk. Prostitutes, mafias, immigrants… Death, to them, was everywhere. If a crime didn't kill you, the place would; many of them died in the streets from disease and if not, hunger. Though to the rats, it was heaven on Earth. The fallen corpses to the rodents were a banquet from God. It was a putrid sight, and a common one among the folk who lived there, seeing those blessed rats gnaw at rotten flesh.

Even the children, who scurried during daytime. Born in the hellhole, they only knew that their life was a 'good' life. It was their only life. And most of them would die in the coming winter with that thought.

Sanitary conditions were far from best, especially after all the rain. Most of the cobblestone streets were riddled with gray puddles and questionable debris. The homeless had long scrammed for safer, cleaner refuge. And the folks who lived in lower ground had to leave their homes, because of the floods that occurred. Those that were lucky, or simply didn't care, stayed huddled up inside their homes waiting for cold days and cloudy skies again.

Amongst the murky streets, there stood beautiful, ornate light posts. It was a lovable decoration that was built around most part of the great London city. But even though it was almost midnight, the posts had been left unlit, as they had been for the last three nights. It would have been in vain, for the rain would have seeped into the iron cage and drowned the flame, and no human being would have bothered to leave their safe abode just for a lantern.

Their hopeful glow disappeared along with the humans who fled the downpour or hid from it, like the rats in the streets did. Those disease-riddled rodents were coming to life thanks to the returning moonlight tonight.

It resembled a ghost town, the lone and eerie narrow streets. Quiet, dark, and misty with humid air.

Quiet except for the tapping of heels over stone, splashing whenever a puddle stood in its path.

Grell liked the ambience. It was creepy, lifeless and _black._

Only when there was no other color, all but on himself, did he like black. It felt as if he was the only person left in the world, the only bearer of a color in existence. Most of the time, it was a horrible feeling, but right now it was the _best_.

He looked up at the bright waxing moon. It would be full moon in another two days from the looks of it. What a lovely shine it would have given now to the fruitless, empty streets. But the excitable shinigami would settle for this.

"I must admit, Ronald has a fine taste for settings," Grell told no one in particular as he splashed on another puddle. His voice echoed slightly in the emptiness of the pathway, to which the redhead hummed in wonder. How far could his voice reach here, and who could possibly be listening?

The blond had suggested the place, since his last soul collection left the working reaper wondering if and _when_ someone would jump behind him to steal his watch, or his shoes. The streets were empty then too, when the young reaper finished his job, but it was the lack of human life itself that was so unsettling.

He thought Grell would have liked to take a stroll there.

And he was right, it was _marvelous_.

"I should thank him later," he spoke again, a little louder and, in turn, with a farther echo. It was tempting, shouting to the night sky, but Grell kept his inner child at bay. Now was not the time to be playing with the wind.

Now was the time to _waste_ time. All he could do was wait anyway, and what better way than to waste time?

Walking down the East End streets, he recalled all those gut-retching prostitutes he helped paint red, along with Madam Red. Oh how he _missed_ that woman and her understanding ways.

It was much too cruel that she wasn't alive, and all because of his own fault.

Sometimes his rash and explosive personality was a burden.

The puzzled reaper took a left at a corner and walked into a narrower cobblestone pathway. There was even an old, broken horse cart in the way, stuck between the brick walls strongly. The flood must have moved it there when the stagnant pool became too large, but now only a thin line of water flowed between the cracks of the stones in the floor.

Grell simply hoped twice over the wooden trap and continued his meaningless walk in a meaningless place.

Midnight would come in a little over twenty minutes. The wayward redhead wanted to enjoy what was left of his time. The time he had before his romances changed. Before the unavoidable, that he tried to avoid.

"_So Grell, empty the graveyard," the washed and dressed young reaper demanded in his borrowed robes, "Tell me what's the happenings in your life."_

"_Where do you want me to start?" he called back lounging on his sofa, taking a sip of his coffee._

_Ronald thought for a moment, poking his naked thumb onto his lip and looking to the ceiling for inspiration. "Well," he started, "How about the beginning? It a good place to start, right?"_

That fake blond was the brother he never wished he had.

Thinking back, Grell remembered how sharp the boy was as he listened to him delve on and on about his love life and, dare he admit, sex life. The young'un might be the only person Grell could talk freely to about his personal '_mating rituals'_. He gave a crazed loud laugh thinking about it as he stepped with force into another gray puddle settled in his way.

_Ronald stayed quiet for a moment as he digested the little facts he was told about Grell's relationship, with a demon. "So…from what I can tell, and from what you've just told me, he was a damn good lover."_

_Grell spread his feet over the couch and leaned back on the armrest with a scoff, "Wouldn't that be obvious, with him being a _demon_?"_

"_He also sounds a little too meticulous if you ask me." The tired blond took another sip of his coffee cup and sat down on the coffee table in front of Grell's sluggish pose. He knew his senior didn't mind. As he set the cup down, he caught Grell raising a fine eyebrow at him. "What? I mean that he's trying too hard being a perfect lover, is all. I could probably sniff his need a mile away."_

_A gargled bark of a laugh left him, almost choking on his drink. Grell coughed out with the rest of his chuckling in the way, "T-that's not far from the truth, but _really_ Ronald? You could sniff his _need _a mile away?" At Ronald's reddened, upset face he laughed louder, while trying to keep from being too loud and wake neighbors._

"_Don't twist the meaning, you nymph!" Even with a scowl, he couldn't help but sound amused at Grell's obvious interpretation. "I meant his need to please _you_."_

"_Oh? Care to explain?" _

_Grell tapped the cup set on his hands, curious of what his smart junior would say._

_Ronald humphed, before starting again with some regained dignity and paler cheeks, "From your _details_, I can catch that this 'Sebby'," he added air quotations with his fingers at the name, "obviously doesn't know what being a lover is, in its whole meaning. He's used to serving a soul for a meal, right? Well, he sounds like he's serving you like a host to a bar. Like 'work' with a smile."_

"_Come now," Grell wiggled his toes as he snuggled better into the velvet-red couch, "Don't be so hard on him. He wouldn't know how to be a lover in the first place. He doesn't__—_didn't_ know what a lover did, from its root word: love. He was learning. Taking baby steps. Forgive him. He meant well." Grell almost pleaded with his eyes at his friend. _

_He didn't really think that Sebastian had purposely pampered him with presents and a magnificent charm to match because it was 'work', as Ronald kindly put it. _

_He could understand that Sebas-chan had tried being perfect because, well, it was what he knew what to do! Be perfect. And there wasn't a guidebook on how to be a lover he could freshen up on, which was basically 'jump into the river and forget about swimming'. It wasn't planning far ahead of time or presenting a likeable image of oneself. Sebastian wouldn't know that love tossed perfection out the window, and that it meant _acting_ because your heart leads the way, and not your brain. _

_Ronald leaned back on his hands, placed on the table, with a mumble and a frown, "Fine, fine. But if I come across him, I'm keeping an eye on him."_

_Grell raised an eyebrow once more, "So you're not bothered that he's a demon?" _

_The junior pulled himself up from the wooden furniture with a sigh and went to sit at the empty armrest on the other side of the couch, where Grell's legs laid stretched. "Grell-sempai, you know I don't care about that when it comes down to love affairs. If you fell in love with a _rock, _you could count on me to be at your wedding reception," the young man turned his drooping head to Grell's comfortable form, grinning, "Just as long as it's _honest_ love, I'll give the rock my blessings. I can do the same to a demon, no?"_

_Grell gave a feral grin in return, "I don't think Sebby likes blessings though."_

He stopped with a start, coming back to reality, with the sound of the Elizabeth Tower's tolling. Midnight had come, and the clock tower gave all the London folk it's nightly welcome on a lone and quiet Friday night. Well, now it was Saturday, wasn't it?

The deep chime resounded all over the city, even in the dark depths of the streets Grell decided to stroll in, echoing endlessly into the night air. It continued, eleven more times with that lovely sound, sweetly bringing to the Londoners its familiar breath of life and order.

"It's midnight, already?" Grell wiped his brow with the back of his gloved palm and stared up at the blanketed moon. Regretfully, a stray cloud danced its way over to shield the moon, and shrouded the land in a darker light.

A soft breeze raised his red madam's coat back gently, with warmth.

"Yes, midnight," a familiar resounding voice answered from above, before the figure itself came up to rest atop the slated roof of a building to be seen.

The red reaper found himself not in a narrow streetway, like he last remembered, but instead in a considerably spaced dead end, where aging burgundy walls creaked in an eternal standing position at his sides, and a rotting wooden fence at his front. He had lost track of time while he reminisced about his little cheeky friend, and ended up stopping wherever the hell he was, with nowhere in particular to go.

To his right, Grell could see that the graceful figure had decided to stand still, as if waiting. The passing cloud ushered away, unmasking the moon to bring its light once more over the soiled land and the silhouette of the man above him.

Covered in a gray-blue light, twin red jewels stared down at Grell's own eyes.

Breathtakingly beautiful, like they should be.

"Good evening," Grell brought up with a bright face. Although his voice sounded much more flat and lifeless to his own ears.

"Good evening, Sutcliff," came back as an equally dead tone, but not from the addressed demon. Sebastian nodded in acknowledgement of the other reaper's presence, who stood a few feet from him.

From the ground below, Grell gave a meek little hello at William.

The two men in question looked at each other with what Grell could only tell was a profoundly poisonous glare. But beside their animosity, he thought, it was peculiar that they appeared to have waited until the clock tower tolled.

"Hey," he called out at the two above with apprehension, "Did you stalk me here?"

The red vixen was inwardly surprised that they knew where he was. Only Ronald should have known that he was neck deep in the streets along the Port side of East End.

They _must_ have followed him without him knowing or realizing, was what he reasoned.

"Grell, that's preposterous," Sebastian cut first, before William did. By chance, he was going to say the exact same thing. How embarrassing it would have been for him –and perhaps for the demon too– if they had said it at the same moment…

"_We_ didn't stalkyou," the Phantomhive servant continued, "I merely searched for your location and decided to move ahead of your path. We never agreed on where to meet, did we?" He smoothly pointed one nimble finger at the reaper a foot's distance from him, "_He's_ the one who stalked you."

William felt more than contempt for the _fiend's _childish antics, "Don't accuse me of such atrocious behavior." But being the ever-growing melodramatic person, all thanks to Grell, the brunette reaper sidestepped his demonic adversary and hopped down to the street below. He landed a little more than a meter away from Grell. "I did the same, you troll. I only stayed a moment longer to be sure that Sutcliff was, in fact, going in the direction you 'assumed'. Honestly…"

Rolling his eyes with pure annoyance, Sebastian jumped down from the tiled rooftop and landed a wide step away from the irritable reaper, which in turn made him land a little farther away from the red reaper.

Grell quirked one brow up in a questioning manner.

"You two met before?" was all he could say after watching their frivolous squabbling.

"It doesn't matter," the demon intervened quickly, almost disgusted with the thought of spending another minute next to the brunette shinigami. Grell noticed that he seemed much more aggravated at William, when it _usually_ was the other way around. "Let's cut to the chase."

Grell crossed both arms over his chest, disapproving the rush.

"What, no 'how's life treating you'?" Frowning, Grell inclined his head to the side swiftly with a huff. Red strands covered part of his line of sight as he murmured, "How ungentlemanly."

Was he the only one in a relatively good mood? _Relatively_ being stressed; he still had a few bones to pick, with the two present.

William took one step forward, shrugging off some grime from the houses off his coat with distaste. The place was much too dirty for him. He would need new shoes after just _stepping_ on the ground.

And wherever he went, the smell of a rodent's carcass would follow him like the _Black Plague_ incarnate, –which wasn't far from truth, considering nowadays it went by the bastardized name _Sebastian__–_. It was _everywhere_, the foul, festering smell of remains. Why, in the name of all that smelled good, did Grell decide to have nighttime walk _here_?

"Sutcliff," he requested, but whatever comment William would have said was lost with the redhead's mumbling.

Sebastian was the one who heard him loudest despite being a longer distance away. "Did you say something Grell," the demon asked, but it sounded more like a statement than a question.

Grell raised his head swiftly and gave each of them a long, scowling look.

"I said, _Men are impossible_. Feel free to counter my statement."

It was quiet afterwards. It served to cool Grell's simmering anger. He wasn't very happy with himself, _or_ his lovers. With how things were last left.

Sebastian wanted to clear up what it was that happened almost four days ago, on Tuesday. He felt ignorant about why Grell suddenly left the manor. And in tears no less.

It couldn't have been his fault, right?

Even if it wasn't, he wanted to apologize. For assuming about what he didn't know.

It clearly bothered Grell.

Sebastian shifted on his toes for a hesitant minute as he waited for the building fury of the fearful redhead to dissipate. "Grell," he broke through the silence formed between them all, "About what happened—"

Gently, a thin hand rose up to stop whatever it was that the butler had to say.

Grell offered him a small smile, calm and penitent. "It's alright. It wasn't your fault."

He already knew what it was that Sebastian was going to ask him.

The Phantomhive butler had become a tad more readable, and Grell could see that he was bothered by what occurred in their last meeting. After all, he _did_ leave abruptly, with the attack he got remembering Casey. Sebastian had no knowledge of his past, so, naturally, he couldn't have known that he reacted to the thought of causing the demon a pain equal to what he experienced.

Grell slowly lowered his gloved hand and brought it back to cross it with the other, like before, "You don't need to worry, Bassy."

Sebastian wasn't satisfied with that answer, but he would take it for now.

William though was left looking between them back and forth, confused. "What? Did I miss something?"

Whether if it was the tone in which he said it or not, Grell gave him a hard stare. He refrained from saying more, lest he make Grell angrier.

He knew perfectly well that he deserved it.

The redheaded reaper huffed before twisting his head away from William's direction, "I'm not listening to you until I hear an apology."

"Wha—"

"I said, _apology_," he cut in before William could say anymore, making the man clamp his lips shut. Grell needed to vent some heightening anger before he could speak sanely again.

William remained quiet while Grell tapped one heeled shoe repeatedly. A soft muddled tap came from it, echoed in the streetway. Occasionally, it caused a splash from the water sloshing by the impact.

This time, Sebastian looked at them both in utter confusion. He was about to ask just what it was that happened between them, but thought against it.

He was much too interested to interrupt them anyway. And much too _amused_.

Patience was running thin as the seconds ticked by. "…Well?"

All he wanted right now was to hear that William regretted his unrequired action. He could wait longer for the explanation. Apologies came first.

A long, drawn out sigh came from the taller reaper. It was just so difficult to look at Grell in the eye without thinking about his wrongdoings. He had thought about it for the longest time, how utterly _stupid_ it was of him to act so rashly. And without even intending it.

William was still perturbed about it. Why _did_ he strike him? Perhaps it was the stress of the moment… With the sudden anxiety and tension in his chest, his muscles just acted out violently. It had bothered him deeply, thinking that Grell would still be capable of suicidal actions.

But he really _did_ regret it. He only didn't know how to properly explain it.

Contemplating his actions, William leveled his eyes to look at Grell's. He tried once, clearing his throat.

"I sincerely apologize for my behavior," the reaper began with hesitation, "It was out of line and untoward. Very much so."

William wasn't confident in his words. He had a way with them, but pouring an emotion like regret in them, _any_ emotion besides fury truthfully, was something he didn't have experience doing. But, he could try not just with words, but with his eyes. So he gave Grell a strong look then, with brows furrowed just slightly, not noticeably so, but clear to anyone that watched carefully, to someone like Grell. He tried to express the honesty he needed to convey, _must _convey.

Somehow.

"I had not meant to hurt you."

Because he _really_ _didn't_ mean to hurt him, in any way.

And Grell _did_ believed it…

"When you can apologize correctly, I'll forgive you," Grell said with a nod after a pause.

…But he wasn't going to accept such a _drab_ and _formal_ apology.

When William could say it like he _meant _it, and not like he was apologizing for his subordinates' behavior to his superiors, he would accept it with a smile.

When he learned how to speak from the heart, and not _try_ to speak from the heart, he would accept it with open arms.

But even if he _was_ right in thinking so, it wasn't easy to say. Grell felt bad for sounding rough and mad, especially since he was worrying about William's health. He wasn't the least bit mad now, but he couldn't just leave the man to think he _hadn't _been. The daring reaper had to _show_ that a wrong was a wrong, even if he _knew_ it wasn't intentional.

_This time, Ronald sat at the couch, where Grell scooted his feet a bit closer to accommodate proper space to his guest. "Say…Grell, before you talk to me about…whatever it is you're going to say about William-sempai, I think something happened to him during the time you were gone."_

_While trying to find a more comfortable arrangement of his legs, Grell hummed with confusion, "What makes you say that?" A spark of anger blossomed in him at William's name, but he wasn't as intense as he thought it would have been. The curious part of his brain wanted to know how William worked while he was gone; he hadn't seen or heard from him when he stayed at the 'Big Ben', which was odd. William _always_ looked for him when he disappeared, even if his straight-faced superior was tremendously angered at him._

_The blond yawned in his hand loudly, before retaking his half-empty cup of coffee to fuel bleak and tired senses. "Well, boss took the days you went missing as 'sick leave'. Actually, I haven't heard from him yet. It's _really _weird."_

_Glass-green eyes widened greatly, shocked at his junior's worrisome words. William was sick? When he disappeared? When he last talked to him? "…He took a sick leave? That's… Really? Did he?"_

_He lifted himself with the help of his elbows to look at Ronald with worry._

"_Yeah, but I thought that you would know something. Everyone in the workfloor was thinking that you had something to do with it, even if it was just a little bit." _

_The blond shrugged his shoulders, thinking that it would have been natural for Grell to be involved. _

"_That wasn't very nice of them, assuming it's my fault," Grell told as he laid his head back on the armrest. Though he said 'them', Ronald was included. The boy had no reason to think that he played a role in William's leave. Although, after he's done pulling all the skeletons out of the closet, his bright subordinate would be right in assuming so._

_But Ronald had his cards lined up already, prepared to justify why he thought so in the first place. One should never bring up an argument without facts to back it up with Grell around._

"_Sempai," he groaned and drawled with weariness, "You disappeared in the middle of a soul-collecting run, and boss was, apparently, sick. _Sick_," the boy stressed out in a louder voice, "That doesn't just happen. And not at the same time." _

_Tired, Ronald leaned back on the plush couch with his arms hung behind his head. He was deeply disturbed by both of his seniors' disappearance. Although in comparison, not so much by Grell's. _

"_And William-sempai has an indestructible immune system. Or close to it," he quickly added to end his rebuttal. _

_Grell was starting to doubt that he _wasn't _involved too. _

_The red-robed host dimmed a laugh from Ronald's high-standing view of William. Sure, Will took care of himself better than most people. That was why he never, or rarely, got ill. And his determination to get work done helped others think he really _was_ an unstoppable machine. _

_Far from it though. Out of all the work he did, William frequently suffered from migraines, and an easily-irritated temper. Which got worse if he had a migraine. Now convenient._

…Now that I think about it… It's been a while since I had one of my headaches, _Grell pondered for a moment_, I guess it was all that work stress pilling up. But I figured if there was a time for a headache, it would have been perfect during _this_ week…

_He tossed the idea over his shoulder and shrugged. Better to not mention the devil, lest it appear. _

_Grell thought back on Ronald's well-pointed fact. Even if William wasn't a superhuman, it _was _odd that he got ill after he went off and disappeared in London. Or, perhaps he was ill before that? _

"_I don't think you're wrong though, Ronnie." The resting redhead looked up at his junior's limp form lying on his red sofa with him. "Do you think it could have been my fault? He…wasn't exactly in the best condition when I last saw him. He was rather irritated, more so than usual." _

And he wouldn't have slapped me in his right mind, right?

"_Can't say for sure, but you can ask him yourself when you have the chance, if he's working tomorrow__—__I mean, today." The youth glanced at the clock hanging at the wall near the personal bedroom, and saw that it was almost three in the morning, "Damn, we're not going to sleep, are we?"_

_Before Ronald could react, he got a sound slap with a pillow thrown at him and Grell's laughing voice ringing with glee._

"_Sweetie, we've only just begun."_

Peeked with a small flame of anger igniting in him, the raven-haired butler kept quiet and tried his best at doing so. Sebastian was not pleased with what William had said, or the way he said it.

_What did he mean by 'hurt'? _

Whatever it was that happened, he would _not_ be overjoyed with what he would hear. The entertainment he had from Grell's criticism died out.

"Grell, I don't meant to interrupt you, but we _are_ here for a reason," the demon said with a fuchsia flare in his eyes.

William gave him a glare in return, for stealing his chance at explaining, even if just a little, of what Grell needed to know.

And the redheaded shinigami in question only looked at his courtiers with curiosity.

_They seem so…straightforward about their feelings now…or is it just me? _

Whether if it was that Grell learned to read their feelings better, or if they were showing them openly, didn't matter. The animosity in the air burst out in waves and washed out whatever harmony there was.

And strangely, Grell didn't feel guilty.

Instead, he felt relaxed and, rather calm. With some nerves and anger, yes, but not how he expected. He wasn't ripping off heads, and he could think clearly.

Grell felt better than he had in a long while.

On the other hand, Sebastian and William seemed much more irked and…_bestial_.

He hoped that neither of them reacted just as strongly to what he would say.

_The sleepy young'un rested his head on the armrest opposite to Grell's. It took him a whole minute to actually _fathom_ what his red-haired superior just told him. Then five more minutes to imagine it being true, not without some scrunched up faces and some gaging. _

"_So…you're telling me…that you're having an affair with William-sempai?" he almost chocked at the word 'affair', "And while you were still seeing that demon he dragged you away from, when you were in that 'Jack the Ripper' phase?"_

"_Exactly," he nodded, stretching his legs to reach Ronald's sides. It was a relatively small sofa after all, and now they were sharing space lined up like tuna fish in a market. "Is it too much?"_

_The two-tone haired reaper shook his head, sniffing at the coffee smell still lingering around them, "No. Only the part about you having affairs. Actually, the boss's attitude makes a lot more sense now. Figures he was being a heartbroken bastard…" _

_Ronald took his cup lying on the coffee table, but as he took a sip, he saw that the mug was already empty. He gave a disappointed sigh after swallowing nothing._

_The senior of the two felt startled that Ronald wasn't that surprised about the news. He tugged at crimson locks with uneasiness, and looked at his guest, "You're not shocked?"_

_The blond only looked back with a suggestive hint, "Honey, there were two possible answers to your odd relationship with the boss: either you were secretly dating, or secretly brothers."_

_Grell gaped slightly at the last part, "…I beg your pardon, honey?"_

_Ronald rolled his eyes before giving his lost dispatch senior an explanation. "You know how brothers can be so cruel and annoying with each other? And still be together?" He saw Grell falter, before nodding yes, "Well, that's what I mean." _

_The feminine reaper formed a small 'o' with his mouth, understanding what his cute little junior meant. _

_He hadn't thought about it that way. He thought Ronald had suggested William held some sort of resemblance to him, which would never happen. He wasn't like William _at all. _And reciprocate. William wasn't like Grell, period. It would be an insult to the both of them._

"_Besides," Ronald started again, sad with his empty cup, "I kinda caught you and William-sempai having a moment a few weeks ago. Nothing big!" he quickly told to calm Grell's jump, pale faced, "I just accidentally walked in on him being nice to you. And you were crying. I just thought that he felt sorry for actually making you cry, or something. Didn't think it was that newbie and his big mouth." He shrugged, careless about it. _

"_How…nonchalant of you." The redhead settled back on his armrest with some uncertainty, tugging again at his hair. "Well, yes, that was a moment I suppose. You didn't tell anyone?"_

_Ronald guessed as much. If he hadn't heard about his supervisor's confession from Grell, it meant he didn't want to sing victory yet. And the blond understood why. It wasn't time for a victory hymn, even if it _was_ Grell getting his love returned. _

_He couldn't really tell his friend about having a demon lover._

_And he couldn't tell him about starting a relationship with William either, when he had another lover. Who was a demon. _

_The Higher-ups would have a cow if they found out. _

"_Remember it's _your_ job to start gossip. I just spread it." He leaned forward and punched Grell's thigh playfully. Hard enough for him to send the message: _I wouldn't do that, you dolt.

_At the punch, the red-clad host winced with a hiss, "Ow… That hurt, you baby!" he cried and gave a punch back, although it packed much more strength than Ronald's. He realized when the poor boy clutched at his leg and nursed it. "Sorry…you baby." Grell chuckled silently, rubbing the injured leg apologetically. _

_It was just so easy to bruise a banana, or in this case, little Knoxie. _

_Alongside all his young subordinate's incoherent mumbling, Grell offered him a smile. "Thank you for not telling anyone, even though you didn't know anything."_

_Ronald raised one golden brow, looking at his senior with slightly moist eyes, "What are friends for?" _

_He smiled back through the pulsing sting at his leg. _

_Grell's grin faltered for a moment, feeling guilty, "I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. Friends aren't supposed to keep secrets from each other." _

"_Hey, water under the bridge!" the pained blond patted his senior's back in a friendly manor. He didn't like it when Grell got sad. He tried beaming a bright and happy grin to raise his spirits, "And besides, we all have skeletons in our closets. I don't blame you one bit."_

_Grell winced again when he received one particularly hard pat in the back. He looked up questioningly to see Ronald frowning intensely, despite the smile he wore not a second ago. _

"_But I _do_ blame you for being stupid enough to date two people at the same time!" the frown deepened, "Grell, you can't just do that! Call me biased, but William-sempai would expect more out of you!"_

_Ah, he wondered when the young blond would blow a fuse about that. Well…he understood the boy's point of view. _

_Grell rubbed his back with one hand, pouting at his little junior who still frowned. "Oh? You think he expected more out of me? Ronald, it's me." He tactfully pointed one thumb at himself with an over-exasperated look. _

_He was making it seem like a playful game, and not the serious conversation it should be. _

_Growing pink, Ronald slapped his senior's leg to stop the face he was making. The young'un was about to crack up at Grell's attempt to make light of the situation, and he _wanted_ to stay serious, "You get my point!"_

"_Oh, I know, I know," Grell prolonged, slapping the boy's leg back, albeit softer than last time, "And I was guilty__—_am_ guilty about it."_

_Ronald lifted one gold eyebrow, "You don't look it though." _

_Grell only offered a mysterious smile in return, "I guess it's because my heart's in a better place."_

_And all Ronald could do was shake his head. There was no helping his nonsensical dispatch senior. "I swear…"_

_But he reckoned Grell had his share of suffering as he listened to what developed during the last week. Letting a woman choose? A woman like Grell? Now that was just cruel. _

_A small window of imagination opened in his head, and Ronald gave a wicked grin. _

The two men had both stopped whatever quarrel was about to begin, to watch Grell attentively. Sebastian had taken the casual air Grell was happy about and crushed it into dust in the palm of his hand. It got tense.

But, it didn't affect him that much.

Grell shifted his glass-covered eyes from one to the other, watching them back.

He watched how Sebastian would stare with vermillion eyes in return, back erect, seemingly prepared for any acid thrown his way. He watched how William stood, frozen in time, masked and shielded. They were waiting for Grell's words. For what he had decided upon.

"_Say sempai…I have an idea…" smug hands pressed palm to palm, fingers tapping each other in eagerness._

"Now, don't look at me like that. You're making me nervous," he tried first, fidgeting with his gloves and picking at the ground with his heels.

"Grell." He caught the pleading look, there for only a second, in William's eyes.

Oh, it felt like it had been _forever_ since he last heard him say his first name.

But a flash of anger shined in his lime-green eyes. Boiling and tainting the green with a fleck of yellow.

"What?" he stressed out, "What do you want me to _say?_ That I pick you? Or that I pick Sebastian? You know, neither of you have been of _any_ help. If fact, you've made things worse than they needed to be!"

He furrowed his brow and pulled his lips in a tight, tense line. Both men in question moved with uncertainty, hesitating on what Grell meant.

But Grell hadn't finished yet, "I'd have the right mind to drop it all! Why should I pick in the first place? Is it some sort of insecurity you need to overcome? Well you didn't need to drop it like a bomb on me because I don't choose _either_ of you!"

Two pairs of eyes widened, stiff and still like ice water running through their veins.

"_What?" _In shock, Sebastian almost screeched with building rage. "_What!?" _

"_It's gonna sound mean, sempai, but hear me out."_

William was overwhelmed.

He didn't know _what _to say. But unlike the demon's denial, he tried to reason with it. _Either of them?_ Did that mean Grell didn't find them worthy to love anymore? Or that he _couldn't_ choose either of them? That he _wouldn't_? That he _tried_ to? That it was too much? That they worsened it all? Was it a fickle choice, or a decisive one? A sprout of anger?

Had they _fucked_ it all up? Did they really?

There was a snickering sound.

"_You have my attention, Ronnie. What is it?"_

It took a second for both of them to realize Grell was laughing. _At their expense_.

He was even clutching at his sides from laughing so hard, heavy and echoing chillingly down the dark streets. It wasn't even a laugh, per se. It was a cackling convulsion. The kind one hears from demented old maids at the plazas, laughing after someone slipped on ice.

William was confused and, _worried_. Was it funny when you gave up on love? Or had the hysterical reaper lost what was left of his sanity _because_ of it? He was more perturbed than baffled at Grell's proclamation.

He was _really_ concerned.

While on the contrary, Sebastian was a boiling kettle. On top of the merry-go-round of feelings he kept well-sealed, this one burst the dam and left him with no control whatsoever.

It didn't faze him when Grell kept laughing, without any control either.

"_I'm not happy about your situation either, not one bit."_

"What the _hell_ does _that _mean?" the demon demanded with a purple rim in his irises.

"_So how about you mess with them back?"_

Grell still kept that cackling laugh that seemed to pour out of his throat. He tried taking breaths in between, but his lungs were aching with the force that it took to gasp and settle down. Thin legs quivered under the weight that seemed to multiply from lack of strength, and Grell thought, why the _hell_ did he enjoy that so much?

Where did that laugh come from?

"I'm—" another laughing fit, "I'm so sorry," he managed to say even with difficulty. "It wasn't my intention to laugh…"

With a deep flare of lilac tint, Sebastian gave him a hard glare, "Then _what_ was your intention? _Enlighten me_." A twinge of his demonic aura nipped hot as fire at his skin, making Grell shiver.

He had not meant to make Bassy so mad.

"No, really, I'm sorry!" he raised his hands in submission against the heat, "I don't know where that came from, but I'm not laughing _at_ you!"

Grell honestly didn't know why he laughed, or why he did the way he did. But it had _caused_ more than the reaction he wanted. The redhead cautiously watched and waited for Sebastian to listen to him again, collected and patient.

Shivering fuchsia lowered to a tinted pink-over-red, and the cutting atmosphere lifted to a simmer.

"I'm sorry, but I needed to do that." Grell planted his feet firmly on the ground, from the rising lick of fire on his skin. He had no idea how Sebastian was capable of doing that, but it served as a warning enough for him, "To give you a little taste of what I was feeling!"

He furrowed his brow daringly, and changed to look at William, who didn't seem to be affected by the nipping heat. _Is it just me then? _

"Maybe next time you'll think twice about 'leaving me to my thoughts'," Grell strongly told as he pulled his hands back at his sides. The invisible fire didn't relent. He turned his gaze back at the demon. _I get it, you're angry! Stop it!_

William hung his head with a long sigh, attracting the demon's high-strung, punishing attention, "I think there's more to your cause than that…" he glanced at the seemingly innocent porcelain face Grell was wearing, "But I understand."

_Why didn't the reaper react_, Sebastian thought, relenting for a second, _Is this some sort of daily thing? Was it normal for Grell to just _fuck up_ your world, for fun?_

Sebastian stopped, his aura vanishing. And with the opportunity, Grell breathed better now that the itching heat left.

_What am I thinking?_

Of course _he did_. _It's_ Grell _of all people. Why am I surprised he enjoyed messing with my head? Why am I surprised that I'm _surprised_?_

For a moment, Sebastian felt perfectly played. And perfectly stupid.

Grell, finally able to breathe and _think_ straight, caught William's last words.

…So he understood?

He _understood_?

"If you understand, then you know what I have to say!" Grell screeched out at his fellow reaper. A heeled platform met another puddle violently in a stomp. "If you understand, then why would you let me choose when you know perfectly well that I won't be able to!"

William took a step back, from Grell's sudden fury.

Why? He brought forth his own anger to match the red reaper's. _Why?_

Then a step forward, looking at him dead in the eyes with cold fire.

"Because it's not _my_ place to decide!"

He saw how Grell's tight jaw slackened, and how his almond-shaped eyes widened slightly.

"It's not that easy, Grell!" William pressed a hand over Grell's shoulder, fastening him in place and centering all of the redhead's attention on him. Grell fearfully stood still. He would listen. "_Of course_, I just wanted to drag you back when that _pest_ said you were seeing him! But I can't just _do_ that! Just like _he_ can't keep you from going back to our Realm!"

William halted for a second, to which Grell reacted by shutting his eyes tightly. He was afraid, for a second time, about pushing William too far. But hearing nothing but a quiet stutter gave him the courage to peek open his bright olive eyes again.

He saw William hesitating to say his next words, and looking away from Grell's scrutinizing gaze.

A gloved, slender hand grasped the arm holding down the bittersweet reaper, easing it off with a modest caress. William shifted his eyes to Grell's hand moving away his invading limb.

The taller reaper watched him, studying how Grell further lowered his forearm, and kept it in his grasp.

He continued, in a softer, kinder voice, "You had to _think_ about what you did, and what you were going to do. And I knew perfectly well that weighing the choice on you would be the same as one of us stealing you. If not, _worse_."

He stopped again, hesitant, but the light pressure given to his arm fueled him to finish. Wavering, but even so. "…You…have the potential to reflect. To…meditate on what it is you _really _want. And…if you understand now what you made me—made _us,_" William signaled at Sebastian with a tilt, "feel, then I'm glad.

"That's all I wanted, when I said that. Not just to give you time, or to give _us_ time. But because I wanted nothing more than to let you know how much it _hurt_ hearing from _his_ mouth that you were…pairing with someone else."

William felt the tender hand leave him then, and focusing down, he saw Grell stare at him. Though, he could tell that Grell wasn't really _looking_ at him.

He was thinking.

Grell knew what it was that he wanted.

"Do you want to know what my real answer is?" the short reaper drew in with a solid voice.

William only nodded.

Once again, Grell cast his gaze somewhere fixed, not really staring at his black tie, but contemplating.

Thinking if what he chose to do was correct.

"I choose to give _you _the choice. Because my heart can't lie to me, and it's telling me that I love you just as much as I love him.

"…William," the crimson reaper said with a sway of his hands, looking down to stare at those mysterious shadows as they formed and disappeared, "Even with all the things you've said and done before, you've always taken care of me. You've hit a few walls on the way, but I think even _then_ you mean well, or so I hope," and William recognized that he meant his slap, especially. "That's why I want you to be the one to decide."

However, Sebastian had remained lenient, watching the whole ordeal. He was accepting of the distance he made, and he respected it, but hearing Grell give all the authority over William made him _furious_.

Red pupils slit into a cat's own breadth. Did that mean he had no word over _anything_ anymore?

But…hearing Grell say why…the forlorn demon didn't _want_ to be in William's position.

He envied him. And pitied him.

_Because Grell could have so much trust for that man, but not him. _

And the silence they all shared, for a moment, seemed peaceful. Despite the demon's anger, and William's quiet thoughts, it seemed peaceful to Grell.

A small smile formed in his lips. He liked it.

He liked to think that it actually _was _peaceful.

A hiss of severed air came from summoning his deathscythe, aimed and gleaming with the moon's blue light.

Metal-rimmed glasses clicked with shears pressing them back. His green eyes appeared hard, poised in a stance for battle and turned with his weapon standing towards the demon.

"Then I decide to fight," William said with a feral gleam in his eyes.

And Sebastian grinned with sharpened canines, a rose tint waking in his shadowed eyes. "Just what I wanted," was his equally fired reply.

_He pitied him, because he had the weight of the decision, all on his shoulders now. Because William couldn't possibly be happy about _any_ choice he made. _

Not a moment after, metal broke stone in a fast extension as the shearing scythe flew forwards and crashed into the wall behind Sebastian. The demon himself jumped and landed at the opposite building, where he flashed a wide, smug smirk.

"Eager, are we?" he taunted, hopping to another rooftop with speed.

William only jumped in sequence after him, entering his hunting mode. "Foulmouthed troll…" he all but growled.

Peace was just a hopeful illusion.

Grell was left with an extremely shocked impression out of William's directness.

_What the _hell_ just happened?_

He didn't think that _William,_ of all people, would go and start a fight. A fight for _him_.

His senior was supposed to be of the tame and _practical_ kind, not some wild animal fending off predators aiming for his mate!

He…expected William to calmly think things through… Had…he thought wrong?

Whatever it was that overcame him, Grell couldn't let it go too far. He jumped up in the direction of their leave, landing wobbly on top of the moss-covered slate tiles. The clouds had long gone, which let him have a clearer view of his surroundings. From his position, the fearful reaper could see with building terror, two building blocks away, a spark of metal against metal.

The knives, alloyed with rich silver, were strong enough for Sebastian to use as a means of defense.

The demon butler had pulled out his battle silverware from both coat pockets, four in each hand, blocking the front reaping shears from landing a solid hit on his body. It was a difficult task, without being pushed back.

Deathscythes had the advantage of cutting though any earth-based material. He couldn't afford to use them as shields wholly; Sebastian dodged the next strike, but not without a scratch. A small tearing sound came from his right sleeve after contacting the sharp-edged back shears.

No blood spilled, but the thrill of a promising fight sent shivers up the demon's spine. It had been a while since he fought a shinigami of high caliber.

And with a weapon with two sharp ends.

The tension of the outcome of the decision became nonexistent with their spar. Fighting, and fighting with all your heart, made Sebastian forget the seriousness of it all. He just wanted to spill blood, more, more and more of it. Release all the tension!

But the damned reaper was aiming at his torso with every thrust of his deathscythe, and the safe distance it provided kept him from getting too close and landing a blow of his own.

He pulled his chest back and cartwheeled backwards, away from another strike. _That's unfair_, Sebastian begrudged as he hopped down to a lower-leveled rooftop, bracing himself with his hands on the slippery flat surface.

Energized and ready, he guarded three knives in his pocket and kept one, securely held by the blade with his thumb and index finger, while waiting for another strike. It came not a second later from the higher position William held, tie ruffled out from their constant movement. He struck down at the demon's feet to keep him moving and airborne, and managed to round him up to the left.

But at the chance Sebastian was expecting. He twisted on his back, parallel to the floor, and flung the blade back, aiming at the black-gloved hands.

Battle experience taught William that his hands were the first place the hellion race planned on damaging, which let him react quickly enough to pull them back, and in consequence, his scythe. The blade of the silverware caught in his coat, but not in any harmful position. It was caught at the space made in his waist from the black wool coat being a little too wide. Only a tearing sound warned him of the knife's presence.

The chasing reaper gave a satisfied _hmph_. He had more experience battling demons than Sebastian had with reapers. They were much too predictable now.

But the raven had more experience in the art of killing by _centuries._

Green eyes widened when they darted to where he last saw the beast, once he gained his footing again.

_He wasn't there_.

William shifted his body to jump down at the lower building top where Sebastian had been, moving quickly out of any possible trap or trick.

If he hadn't, the Phantomhive dog would have ripped his back with raptor claws.

"I see you're not past using instinct, shinigami," the violet-eyed miscreant mocked, cracking a knuckle in the air, "That makes up for a longer fight."

A knife's reflection blinded the flustered butler, passing by his sight too close for comfort. He caught it swiftly with two fingers before it flew past him and landed somewhere far and lost.

Sebastian ran a snow-white thumb over his left cheek, staining it red.

A cut.

"Your _knife_," William cut in, flexing his fingers back on his scythe. He had 'returned' the uncomforting utensil to its cocky owner the most practical way: throwing it with deadly intention.

Sadly, he missed. He had aimed for the eye. It was just too bad he wasn't good at throwing off-balanced items like knives.

"_Thank you_," he gleamed with a feral fuchsia.

"_My pleasure_," William growled with a fake bow.

Another zip of slit wind echoed in the night, issuing a new round of the match.

Grell stood frozen, speechless as he saw the battle forming yards away.

His face had reddened while they traded blows and traveled farther and farther off into the distance.

_I can't believe these idiots are actually fighting…for me…!_

It wasn't _all_ out of anger and anxiety. Like any woman having two men throw their testosterone around in a fight, Grell was shivering with hot joy, enjoying the possessiveness the two 'idiots' had over him.

The red mistress felt more heat creep up his cheeks when he saw Sebastian sprint up at the air, waltzing with the moon.

What a beautiful display of macabre intent.

The demon inclined his head up, looking down at the ground from his inverted position with an eagle's sharpness. His adversary had remained glued to the ground in a defensive stand, an array of cutlery utensils scattered at his feet, stuck to the roof slates.

William saw the demon's immobile stance and shot his weapon at his target, aimed at that pesky right arm once chance allowed him to. But Sebastian had waited for it, snaking his appendage away from harm and grabbing hold of the pole firmly with his left hand.

He braced himself to be thrust at the slivered rooftop, hardened legs prepared to use the force of the momentum and drag William near him by his own weapon. But instead, he was pulled down by the weapon's retracting at an irregularly, alarming fast pace, tailcoat billowing behind like a flag. Startled by the approach, Sebastian brought forth longer claws, cutting through the gloves' fabric, and ready to grab hold of his enemy to stop his descent.

But that was just William's intention. He jerked the scythe in a round sweep at the floor, bringing along the pest and smashing him with inhuman force against the crumpled roof, cracking it further. Dust and dirt particles flew up and scattered with the soft breeze, coupled with a crack of building matter falling back in wider cracks.

The moonlight disappeared for that moment, as the matted dust blew higher and darker.

A soft groan left the floored demon with the shears pushing and pinning his left hand down at the slate rooftop, ripping through cotton and flesh with ease. The weapon shuddered and gripped at his hand with a stronger force than that of his fall, stained crimson with the wound it made. The slates cracked under the pressure.

"Tell me one thing," the standing reaper called from behind the dusted air, hiding from Sebastian's view. The demon felt annoyed, if not embarrassed, at being caught and pinned to the ground with such a simple trick. "What do you see in Sutcliff?"

Bloodied and affixed, his hand shook from exerted strength, twisting enough to wrap its fingers on the top shear, staining the blade further. "What's there not to see?" the demon gave with a heavy grunt.

He didn't receive a verbal answer, but a crunch of bone from stronger applied force on his palm served as substitution. Sebastian gripped at the blade harder despite the pain it caused. He would challenge his foe and show he didn't accept submission, no matter how much his hand protested against the iron-clad grip of the deathscythe and its sharp shears.

Thick blood ran down the battered palm, staining his white gloves red, and he grinned through the hot stinging burn.

"Then what do you want to hear? What do you _wish_ to hear? You're not being…specific!" Hastily, with renewed strength, the bleeding hand pulled the shears up and off the ground, straining, shaking. It allowed him to stand slowly, still gripping the blade that tried to push him down still.

Rivulets of red dripped on the cracked tiles, marking the land in mismatched patterns. His white gloves were no longer white, but a dark red, darker at the palm where the shear was still held and cut deeper. With his hand caught between the blades like a scissor, every small twitch his muscles gave burned like acid.

The dust cleared and revealed William, both hands secured on the scythe, standing a couple of feet in front.

"I want to know what gives you the right to love him," William said as he tightened his grip on the scythe, sending a new wave of pain for the demon's throbbing left hand.

"Oh?" Sebastian stressed, "Is that so?" He used all of his strength to pull the shears closer, tearing more skin. From it, the blood pooled and ran down his clothed forearm, tarnishing the fabric. "Why do I love him? Speaking with my sincerest wishes, I haven't the slightest clue!" And with even greater force, he pulled the scythe back towards his chest, tipping the reaper's balance and dragging him close. With his unharmed right hand, he caught William with a start by the left arm, whilst keeping his grip on the scythe with his still-bleeding hand.

William tugged at his captured limb, but the grip was relentless, and hardening.

"Maybe it's because Grell is a bundle of surprises all wrapped in one, because he never fails to surprise me with something new, while still bearing that predictable personality," the grip on the arm increased, and hissing out at the anchored hold, William yanked harder, "Maybe it's because he looks at me with something akin to reverence, with respect and joy," the pressure heightened, strangling a cry out of the trapped reaper, hearing a crack, "Or maybe because just talking to him feels like something I could never get tired of. He could talk for _hours_ and I could just sit there and listen to him!"

Claws dug onto his imprisoned arm, cutting deeper, and finding it useless to struggle, William pulled instead at his scythe. He succeeded in ripping it out of the weakened hand and with another hissed cry, he assaulted the demon's face with his retrieved weapon, managing to collide with Sebastian's right temple despite him dodging. But from his quick movement backwards, the blow softened and only scraped skin.

The new spilled blood did tamper Sebastian though; it seeped into his vision, leaving him to release the crippled arm, but not before twisting, and wipe at his eyes. With his vision shrouded and stinging, and one disabled hand, Sebastian pulled back with a short hop and perked ears ready to react.

The twist had dragged the fine talons over his forearm and cut stripes out of his sleeve. Red blossomed in thick lines tracing over exposed skin while bone creaked from the strength it suffered, possibly broken in more than one place. William too stepped back to ready himself for any sudden assault, hissing from the pulsing pain in his damaged appendage.

Sebastian pushed at the fresh cut with his right, able hand, keeping the blood from blinding him further.

He stared hard at the reaper facing him, who stared back just as cold and pained as him.

"…Maybe I've grown soft with him by my side, because I can't remember a time when I ever wanted someone the way I want _him_," the demon brought again, watching with hidden amusement as William staggered for a second with a step, "And the only word I can define that _want_ with, is _love_. Yes, _love_. Is that so _difficult_ to believe?"

Sebastian then jumped forward at a breakneck speed, catching his opponent off-guard and pushing him all the way towards the higher platform's wall. The makeshift ground crumbled under his trail, and bricks shuddered from impact. More crumpled dust matted their surroundings.

Luminous fuchsia pink radiated through the dust, and a clawed hand visible through the air pressed back at his chest. "What about you? What gives _you _the right to love him?"

_Even though neither of them wanted to be nowhere near a _mile_ close to each other, both men agreed on staying close once they found just where it was that Grell hung about. They had come across each other, not without hostility, at the London Bridge, where the reaper brooded the past few days and Sebastian crossed to enter the City. Despite some hissed comments, they realized with some trepidation neither of them had the slightest clue where Grell was. _

_Not even William, who had remained the majority of the day in the human world, as recommended by one of the head nurses. And so without a guide, or likeness for each other, the two blockheads decided to stay close and explore where the redhead could be. _

_That was at nine o'clock, and two hours had passed since. _

_It was around ten past the hour, fifty minutes before midnight, when the demon's nose caught that sultry perfume around the Whitechapel district. _

_Only _then_ did they actually exchange words. Before, it was a silent agreement to have a look around and wait. _

_Besides, neither of them wanted the 'honor' of being the better person and talking in a mannered way. _

"_So you've been seeing Sutcliff since the past winter?" _

_What a _wonderful_ way to start a civilized conversation._

_Sebastian glanced at him, from the corner of his eyes, with obvious aversion, "Yes… But I wouldn't say that it's a long time…" he trailed off, looking out from their post above the buildings at the fluorescent horizon of the city. _

"_It's longer than me," William admitted low in a melancholic voice, staring at the docks not too far from their position. Grell was dilly-dallying somewhere in that direction, dazed and free to waste time. _

_The Phantomhive servant turned to the reaper in confusion. "I would've thought you two to be seeing each other longer. _Much_ longer."_

"_Being acquaintances has nothing to do with it. He's been flaunting over me for almost an entire century." Revulsion flared in his bespectacled eyes, but only directed at the hell spawn for suggesting so, "It's only been a month."_

"_A month?" the butler repeated, surprised, "A whole century…He's been after you for almost a _whole_ century, and you've been doing _what_, exactly?"_

_There was spite in Sebastian's tone. _

_And William accepted the spite, adding some of his own._

"Nothing_," the reaper replied with bitterness, "I've done absolutely nothing. And for that, I hate myself." _

_A black gloved fist tightened at his side._

_Sebastian huffed with cold air, "I hate you too."_

_And a glare was shared between them again, scornful and filled with venom._

William stared back at those pools of light amidst the debris, narrowed and tinting with a furious speck of emerald.

"What gives _me_ the right to love him?" the scythe trembled in his grasp, "That would be the same I asked _you_. What takes _that_ right away?"

Twin blades shot up at the demon menacingly, startling him from his hold on the reaper. It was too much of a close proximity to dodge. The pruning shears met at the throat, extending and tearing away.

"Why _shouldn't_ I love him when all he ever does is pick and prod at my feelings? Make me feel things only _he_ could ever make me feel?" As William spoke, the weapon clamped shut at the twitch of his fingers, strangling a pained groan from Sebastian. "He's not around, not a mile in sight, but still he plagues my thoughts. He makes me worry, makes me restless, _angry_. Makes me _miss him_." Blood dripped down the deepening grip of the metal, choking and biting at the tender skin.

"He makes me _love him_ just by _loving me_," the weapon released its penetrating grip then, pushing the vehement demon away.

The freed reaper watched as Sebastian faltered with a couple of steps and a hand came up to rest at the torn throat. His own hand rested at his chest, where a hot aching began to spread from the claws previously digging there.

They each regained some strength and wind, each with new wounds and saturated with the raw smell of blood and sweat.

"I regret, more than _anything_, not realizing my feelings sooner," William hardened his grip on his weapon, regarding his injured opponent with a wary eye, "I don't want to lose him now, and not to you."

The weapon came up to point at the demon directly.

Sebastian loosened his hold on his fresh wound, looking at his unharmed hand stained crimson. A twisted smirk crossed his lips, eyes lit anew.

He could feel it. That determination and _drive_, full of killing intent.

The shinigami was serious.

Serious about Grell too.

William brought his weapon back, smeared with blood and the pungent smell of death, "But I recognize you, Sebastian Michaelis, as a worthy opponent."

He felt it in the demon, down to his very bones.

The beast wasn't lying, about anything he felt for Grell.

"I'm flattered, truly," Sebastian gave with a mock bow, a drop of red trickling onto the roof from his soiled collar, "I would call you a worthy adversary too, Mister Spears.

"But this battle has yet to end." Jagged, sharp talons reshaped themselves again from the torn and tarnished gloves, black as the night and promisingly _painful_. His left hand, bearer of the seal and damaged from the deathscythe's first attack, retreated to his side defensively, but just as acute as his right.

With a broken arm and a possibly fractured ribcage, William held his weapon steady, metal joints tightened and together as its standard length, "I agree."

_Not until one of us is dead or dying._

Sebastian propelled himself with his legs, up to the higher rooftop, with William hot on his trail and following at the same distance. A short few meters away from the partly demolished rooftop, the fervent demon stopped, turning, flashing his right claws, with a sinister gleam in his eyes.

William too stopped, at the distance he kept, and gripped with deathscythe with strength in his right hand.

He came forward with a sprint, aiming at the demon's skull. To stab, with his death-casting blades, that treasured face.

And the demon followed suit, talons ready and swung back. Ready to slash forward at the reaper's chest, to dig and crush, grab in the palm of his hand those precious organs and obliterate them.

A step, a second passed. It would be enough with a deep enough wound.

Wind hissed, blood soared and spilled over the rooftop.

A blade creaked, claws twitched.

The scythe didn't hit its mark.

And they both halted, stunned.

With Grell between them, facing William with those black merciless claws piercing through him.

Through his chest.

_Blood gushing._

Right through his heart.

_Spilled everywhere._

* * *

><p><em>AN: Don't kill me. /white flag_

_Merry Christmas/New Year's cliffhanger~._


	14. Listen

_A/N:_ _I can't apologize enough for taking so long to update. I'm not worthy of writing down an excuse! Just throw rocks at me already! It's been months, I know. Oh, Dear Lord, I'm so, so sorry, *self-slap* so sorry… _

_Please enjoy the chapter!_

**Warning**: Some swearing. Once more, bloodiness and…descriptions. Squeamish people, beware. Gore fanatics, rejoice.

* * *

><p>In the moonlit glow of the city, a piercing shriek echoed. Red beads of precious life arched out into the sky, out from a beating chest pierced by pitch-black claws.<p>

"_Grell!_" one of the two men had cried out, or…had it been both of them? Grell couldn't tell from the numbness that was spreading inside him. Too much blood kept gushing out, he could tell, from his new, deadly wound.

He hadn't even noticed when Sebastian pulled out his hand, as if burned by his bloody innards, or when his wobbling legs gave out. He only noticed a faint pitch ringing in his ear, blocking out any sounds or words that either man would have been shouting at him.

It dulled him, _weighted_ him…

He couldn't do anything but gape and _fall_.

Sebastian didn't know _how_ to react.

The instant he felt his hand tear through tender skin, all his inhuman senses heightened from the sweet tangy smell of fresh blood. And in that same instant, he knew that it wasn't William's blood that had been spilled like wine upon a glass.

It was that familiar, sensual smell.

Then, he knew he had just done something horribly _wrong_.

In a snapped trance, his own arm pulled back from the warm flesh. Just as he retrieved his hand, a vile taste sprouted at the back of his throat as he felt tendon after muscle after _bone _with every burning touch. There was a heavy sensation in the pit of his stomach, and suddenly, Sebastian had the urge to _heave_ out whatever substance was in his gut.

That would prove impossible though his scratched and battered throat. He stood there gagging for a second, _staring_ at the blood.

There was just _so much_ of it…

_So much_, that for the first time, he actually felt _disgusted _by blood.

William, though, had seen Grell appear seemingly out of the blue to come between them. He managed to stop with just enough time, strength and fear; for his scythe was only an inch away from the demon's skull.

_Just an inch more and he could have__—_

Any rational thought he had at that moment dissipated once he saw all the blood flying everywhere,at him. _Covering him_ in a red _blanket_.

For heaven's light, he was _blinded _by it!

But William wasn't one to freeze amidst raining bloodshed. So he wiped a hand over his glasses, and just…_moved_.

With his regained vision and the pungent smell of blood all over him, he saw Grell give a jerk and stumble. From muscle memory and previous experiences, his arms jolted upwards to catch his falling body and hurry forward. But as he took hold of the tumbling reaper William gave out a deep, pained groan, realizing his plight. He had taken a hold of Grell's weakened body with his fractured arm. Pain blossomed anew, and now a hot current of electricity ran down his arm, stinging white heat on every nerve possible.

But he _will not_ let go.

Sebastian, in shock and nauseated, had taken a hesitant step back. He could only stare with fuchsia-brimmed eyes, at the disaster before him, with fear, with _terror_.

_Oh _Gods_, Grell__—__!_

Funny how it all happened in a second.

Funny how a second was long enough to change everything.

* * *

><p>Groggy eyes blinked slowly, faintly, and the world focused back to life. It was grey and blue with red glimmering at the edge of his vision. <em>In <em>hisvision_._

_Such a beautiful color…_

Grell took a gasping breath and felt his chest convulse torturously, as if punishing him for trying to breathe.

Suddenly, it was so _terribly cold_, and all he could do was lean into the warm body that was holding him…holding him? Who was holding him? Who could be so wonderfully _warm _against his trembling icy limbs? He shakily looked up with pleading wet eyes through stained glasses, and saw a blood-bathed face staring back at him with emerald-green—

_Oh Will…_

He couldn't contain his shivers even as he leaned into William's warm embrace. He couldn't stop _aching _all over_._

Now, the trauma that had paralyzed him seconds ago and left him senseless, was gone.

Now, he could hear everything. He could feel _everything_.

_Everything that wasn't there. _

_Where__…? My chest—?_

Grell coughed painfully, wheezing as he held his chest. And he felt something drip from his mouth like saliva, only thicker…and _warmer_. He only pressed his hand harder into that empty, _agonizing_ feeling in his chest. It stung more as he did, but he _couldn't_ _stop _holding onto that empty _something_, where the pain burst from.

Grell struggled to stand with William's body as a support, but his legs shook like a newborn calf's. He couldn't control his shaking, and his hands would fumble and lose grip.

His body was losing too much blood, too fast.

_It was just so cold…_

Over his own shallow breathing, he could hear William's strained shout and heavy panting. Something blaring at the back of his head made him recall that one of the brunette's arms was not faring well, and so he tried leaning away from the limb to spare the man more undeserved pain, despite his own.

He didn't know how it was possible he could even _think_, let alone _remember_ that much about his surroundings.

"Grell," William growled with cold fury and ache in his voice, "Grell what the _fuck_ were you thinking?! You could have _killed_ yourself!" Amidst his screaming, the frenzied reaper willed his scythe away, casting it back from whence he summoned it, and shakily checked for vital signs. _Dropping pulse, heavy blood loss… _His head shook in denial. "How could you be so—so _stupid!_" _Dilated pupils…pale… No…no, don't you fall asleep!_

A weak laugh bubbled out of Grell, drowned behind another thick cough. "How else…were you going to st–stop and pay attention to me?"

He stood trembling on his own feet, shivering more and more, holding onto William's shoulders for dear life. At some point, speaking, Grell realized his voice had a slight quiver, a slight hoarseness that it didn't have before.

It wasn't smug, or confident, or sultry.

It was weak and hollow.

Even with a heavy cloud setting over his eyes and _that burning ache_ spreading from his chest down to his very toes, Grell still made a joke of it all and grinned, albeit weakly, and said, "I should have tried stripping, s-shouldn't I? That always works."

That comment was just so…so out of place. So unnecessary and degrading and _infuriating_—

So _Grell_.

Subtly, the senior reaper's nerves and agitation settled, even if just a bit.

And skyrocketed to _seething fury _in the next second.

"_Stop it_," William hissed with a glint in his eyes, "Just…don't speak. Save your energy."

He _will_ _not _allow Grell fall asleep on him. And he _will not _allow Grell to treat this as a _joke! _When his wounded lover healed—William _refused _to think of the word 'if'—, he was going to beat him back to near-death with his own two hands!

Only a few feet away, Sebastian blinked back from his stupor and stared widely at Grell's weakened form. His crimson eyes hardened.

The injured demon glowered at that broken back, staring deeply into the black hole that seemed to suck his rationality away. The hole he _caused. _

All he could think, was why. _Why…?_

"Why are you facing him?" He slowly voiced, stepping ever so carefully close behind the bleeding reaper, "Why…do you show me your back?"

_Why do you deny me your face?_

The demon's voice was tinted with desperation, but more than anything, with _anger_.

Anger at Grell's actions, _his own_ actions, _his own _weakness and uselessness at Grell's peril…

_His own jealousy of the man giving Grell all his attention._

Grell didn't say anything for a few seconds, sparing his throat another coughing fit that would surely rack his entire body down to the bone with blinding pain. He swallowed the hot blood caught in his windpipe twice and breathed in deep, shaky night air.

He did not turn his head to answer Sebastian's question.

"Because I don't want you to see me cry."

The world froze for him with those words.

In that instant, he was brought back to the day when Grell came to him and broke down, outside the mansion's doors, after apologizing in tears for his selfishness and assumptions. He had been so confused, wondering why it was that the redheaded reaper seemed to know everything and nothing at the same time. What had been gripping Grell's heart and making him weep in sadness and fear on that day?

He remembered how stubborn they each had been about their feelings. And like cold water, the words Grell said then came rushing back.

_"I don't want you to see me crying."_

He remembered how horrible he felt hearing those words the first time.

It felt _so much worse_ now.

Sebastian remained still, standing behind Grell. He stood there, solemnly and blank, offering his hands if William's hold ever failed.

He didn't have claws anymore. Just normal, human hands. Bleeding and broken, but human still.

If Grell wanted to look strong in his eyes, even now as he bled because of him, he would let him be. He had his pride too. He understood far too well.

Taking the silence offered, Grell took one shuddering gasp of air. "I didn't disappear, you know," he started with as much strength he could muster, but the words still wavered, "I was here, watching you two fight—," a choke overcame him at the last word.

The sullied, faint reaper forced down the tremors that rushed not from his injury, but from his brewing emotions. He knew very well that what fogged his vision wasn't his physical state.

A salty trickle seeped down his cheeks, blood soon joining it as it met his lips.

"You were beautiful, the both of you," he whispered with a quiver. "So beautiful…"

Another strong shudder ran though his body and Sebastian saw how William's eyes widened behind his bloodied glasses, bloodied by Grell. Panic fluttered in the demon's chest anew.

_Forget respect and pride, Grell's _dying_—!_

"B-but I'm not stupid," the dying reaper continued still with a thick, almost-black trickle pouring from his lips down his chin, down his tarnished white shirt, down his beloved madam's coat… His hands grew weaker with each passing second, but he would not stop yet. He had things yet to say, through his fogged sight and fogged mind. "I'm not so blind…as to forget how it would have ended. I—"

He swallowed back another coppery cough with a shudder.

"—I saw your hand…t-turn into claws—"

But he could not hold it back any longer. A heart-retching _hack_ came from deep within his tattered lungs. It echoed through the dark sky, breaking the noble night's peace.

The floor was bathed in red now.

But through that same bleeding mouth rumbled a hoarse whisper to the wind, almost like a silent plea.

"I didn't want to see William kill you."

To his own amazement, and surprise, Sebastian swallowed back all the fear present in his mind and brought forth the anger he had forgotten in exchange for worry. It came back in _throws_. He felt _insulted _in the harshest of ways_. _

"Do you really think I am that _weak_?" the demon spat out in fury.

"No." It was William who answered, his grip tightening around the slouching redhead, despite the dilemma his arm was in. "A deathscythe is a deathscythe. Your claws are just that. _Claws_."

Had been at any other situation, Sebastian was almost completely certain he would not have resisted punching the man square in the jaw for making that crude _assumption_. As it was, he couldn't possibly allow himself to do so. There was someone very important in the reaper's black-gloved, stained and bruised hands, and he couldn't— no, _wouldn't, _for he could_—_ reprimand William. He held back the spiteful words he was about to say with tolerance he knew not he possessed, and inhaled deeply past his growing, uncontrolled emotions.

Sebastian was not a man of _impulse_. A common, _expendable _demon was.

He was cruel, unforgiving and _relentless_. But with restraint and a purpose, _never_ an impulse.

That was one of the things the demon loved and hated about Grell, that boundless impulsiveness he so proudly owned.

_Grell…_

The battle-worn demon had not noticed the crooked smile his own lips formed at the bittersweet thought, until a muscle in his slashed throat twitched in protest. He had not even noticed how close he had gotten to Grell's hunched back until he felt the telltale burn of his scrapped finger pads brushing over cotton. His outstretched hands met Grell's shivering arms in a hovering touch.

How sad it was that the withering red reaper seemed to relax at the slight contact.

"Now stop it, you two. Don't fight for me anymore," Grell rasped out, his throat feeling raw from the hot blood. He closed his olive eyes, slowly, feeling them so impossibly heavy to keep open.

It no longer felt cold, cradled between black wool suits and desperate emotions. Instead…he felt as light as a garden flower pedal drifting onto dew-covered grass.

He wasn't falling anymore.

He was perfectly caught in both his heart's takers, safe from the punishing ground.

A soft, subtle smile settled in his bloodied face as he sighed, "Killing each other would only make a bigger hole in my heart."

There was no alarm or fear for him as the world turned dark and cold.

* * *

><p>In the sudden heavy silence, a ragged sharp breath came from the spectacled being.<p>

He held the body weighing against him tighter as he screamed, "You're such a _fucker_ for making that joke, Grell!" But there wasn't any time to waste. William hurriedly felt for pulse again. There was no chance in _Hell_ Grell was leaving him like that!

Shifting the limp body proved difficult, more so with a broken arm and a scratched up chest, but the pain was necessary, a reminder that _he was here, it was real, this was happening_. Checking a wrist would be a waste of time, _far_ too much blood had been spilled. The floor was _sticky_ with it. So one black-gloved hand moved swiftly to Grell's neck.

"It's faint, but there," William murmured aloud, feeling a soft, slow throb in the right side of the fainted reaper's neck, where a blood vessel lay under skin.

But it was slowing down with each passing second.

_But it was there!_

He shifted Grell in his arms again, so that the red mess of a body could rest completely against his chest. Streams of hair shielded part of his vision, the fringes matted with blood.

They would have to move fast, but where?

The human world was much too unreliable. Would they have the knowledge to treat such an injury? _And in tim_e? No, William thought not. The mortals had just discovered how useful and beneficial sanitation and hygiene were in treating their fallen. Leaving Grell in the hands of a human would kill him _faster. _Infections _riddled_ the place.

He was a shinigami. Yes, yes their world would be the most adequate place.

But William would have to make haste. Perhaps he could channel a portal where the medical wing of the main building was. It would save precious time, but he would have to focus, and _fast_.

Unfortunately, having the weight of a grown man on a fractured arm and faring other injuries caused quite the neural distraction.

_Shit._

William hated to admit it, but he would need help. From _the_ _demon_.

"Would you stop standing there and lend a hand?" he all but yelled at the still-frozen _beast_. William wasn't going to ask nicely. And _never_ to a cretin. "He's going to _die_ if we don't hurry!"

No, his hands _were_ _not_ shaking like a leaf. They were both calm and collected and–_ Who _in the Almighty's_ doorstep _was he trying to_ fool? He could feel a panic attack creeping up on him!_

It seemed his previous words had snapped the human earl's servant back from the brief anxiety he was experiencing. Well, _both of them _experienced. Was his heart _clenching_ up?

_Shut up_, William screamed at himself internally. _Stop rambling, Grell's dying!_

He thought all of this in such a hurry, the panicking reaper all but stuttered out, "There's an infirmary in our Realm! It would have to do, but I need a portal. All it takes is a few seconds and—_aagh!_" _Fuck _the _hellion _for _breaking his arm! _It was starting to _twist_ with his hold! He _needed _that arm!

For all the strangling groans escaping the high-strung reaper, Sebastian then turned a serious eye to him and said, "I'll carry him."

There was something off in the way Michaelis spoke, he judged. It came off almost…_dulled,_ as if there was something he was trying to hide in his voice. Something flashed in those ruby eyes. Something _off._

"Just, give me one second." Sebastian turned to show his back, and William couldn't help but panic _more. Was he going to run? No, no he can't do that now! _If his voice betrayed him and trembled, William would never admit it aloud. "What are you stalling for?! Hurry up and—!"

A squelching sound interrupted him. _Sickening, _like a cup full of rotten milk dripping onto a cup. Sebastian turned back after another second, and if it wasn't for the blood pumping in his ears, the reaper could almost _swear_ he heard—

_What…what the…_

"Now I'm prepared to carry him. Hand him over."

William's eyes marginally widened seeing what the demon had just done.

His ruby eyes weren't there anymore_. _

_They weren't __**there**__._

They were closed, hollow with _blood _streaking down_ the eyelids, _down his _face _to his_ neck. _

He'd just stuck his fingers in his eye sockets and _gouged his eyes out, _like it was something _normal_.

For the longest time, William just _stared _at the demon's face and those _goddammed empty eyes._ His mouth continuingly opened to say something, something _rational_, but closed without a word every time. He could only gape in _horror_ at what Sebastian had done to himself. _For no logical reason._

"Have you gone _mad?_" he finally, _finally _got out.

There was confusion sprouting in that _bleeding face _and the reaper almost _gagged_, realizing the demon had blinked in confusion too, but uselessly, seeing the lids only flutter slightly for a moment before resting again. It _had _hurt, William offhandedly deemed, from the wince the sightless man showed at trying to fulfill the action. "Grell doesn't wish for me to see him," he thought to explain, "I'm respecting his wish."

As he spoke, Sebastian blindly, but confidently, walked to William's wobbling position and grasped with careful touches at the limp body. Grell was deathly white and soiled in red, but shallowly still breathing, now in his arms.

The startled head reaper woke from his stupor then, remembering the very reason why he had asked the demon for assistance, and why now there was a pair of blood streaks staining said demon's eyeless face.

"Well? Aren't we supposed to hurry?" Sebastian stressed impatiently, but with a hint of concern in his voice, furrowing his eyebrows together and shifting Grell with a long _hiss_ into his arms, off the floor and gently against his chest. Heeled legs hung slack out one of his arms while the other supported hesitantly at Grell's ginger shoulders. He was afraid of accidentally pressing against the large wound and making it worse.

William was afraid too, for the demon was _blind_ and couldn't rightly _see_ where his hands exactly lay_._ Oh _Gods, _he was going to have_ nightmares…_

All the bewildered reaper could do was shut the world out and _shut his mouth up _as the space shifted and morphed at his fingertips, making the portal to the much-awaited infirmary, hopefully in time even with prized seconds and perhaps a minute wasted.

Forehead glistening with profound exerted sweat, William staggered only for a moment, for he used too much of his energy forming their pathway. It was the adrenaline pumping in his veins that refused to let him tire and fall to his knees.

"Come," he called sternly to the demon who he knew enough to obediently follow behind him without trouble, though not without pain.

They were both sore and aching from their passed battle now. But Grell came first.

And as he crossed through the portal and peeked into the medical quarters, thankfully clear of life and movement, a stubborn thought crossed William's mind.

…_I'll never understand your kind…Michaelis._

* * *

><p>Snow white sheets dented under the weight of a new body. Dozens of crimson locks pooled over a feather pillow, over a clothed shoulder and down a lithe, sickly pale body. A small handful of red tresses wound its way inside the ever-present red coat.<p>

William set to work, even with his arm _screaming_ at him to stop moving and the rest of him beginning to feel heavy as lead. But he would not mend himself until Grell was seen to and attended. And in the empty room of the institute's infirmary there were enough materials for a whole downed squadron, and the necessary synthetic peace for work.

No one would bother them at this ungodly hour, and besides, it was _Friday. _Well, technically Saturday, but William shifted his mundane thoughts back to focus on treating that _blasted_ injury.

He lifted the light-weight shinigami gently, scowling at the blindness his bloodied spectacles gave him. He would need to clean them again. William first quickly helped shed the bothersome coat, unbuttoning the waistcoat and the blood stained shirt to hurry and heal.

Then, with care, he set Grell back down on the bed and searched for a clean napkin to polish his glasses with.

Once he did and propped the glasses back in their place, he gave a start in horror.

What he saw didn't please him. _At all._

With all the clothing out of the way, he could see, spiking panic and little repulsion, how red-painted skin bled with a seeping brick-black hole interrupting the body's perfection. Right under the left collarbone.

There was no doubt in his mind that the left ventricle of the resting redhead's heart was damaged, significantly. His left lung most definitely wasn't receiving oxygen, by the looks of it.

It was very serious, but at least he still had a functioning heart.

Yes, he could hear it now. The organ was pumping blood, weakly, but every pump meant he was still alive.

With newfound speed and purpose, William stood from the chair he had pulled up to inspect Grell and rapped open a cabinet on the wall near the bed, finding gauze, bandages, a few clean towels, some labeled bottles of medication and other medical items.

The driven reaper knew what to do. From his times in the infirmary, of course, and the basic first-aid class in the Academy. It lent him confidence.

He ripped his work gloves off and fished some clean white ones from the cabinet to use. Taking one clean towel with his uninjured hand, William turned and sat again at the chair. He began to carefully blot the wound for it to absorb the sickening blood, and cleaning around to see the damage.

He visibly cringed when he saw bone —_damn it all, things kept looking worse__—_, but from forcing his eyes on the crumbled chest, relief washed over him from the lack of sprouting blood.

Either his heart had actually been spared from the blow, or Grell's healing capabilities rose to the occasion once more. Even though the wound was _clearly_ terrible, –he could almost see the bloodstained sheet laying underneath _for God's sake_–, Grell wouldn't be in danger of losing his life.

Thank the _gods_ for the redheaded reaper's legendary persistence.

William fished over to another drawer, the ones below the cabinet on the wall and reachable from his sitting position. Creams and gel substances littered in the last one, if he remembered correctly. He would apply those first to rid any bacteria that might be on the raw wound, and cooling agents would help ease whatever burn the bloody redhead might feel.

He tisked softly at the red color now adorning his new gloves.

_Great, _the reaper thought, _I better be careful not to make too big a mess._

It was rather quiet while William worked, hissing every now and then when he had to use his battered arm as he treated the sleeping reaper. Grell lay in a somewhat comfortable sleep, hair still bloody, but face much cleaner. Though, the stained bed sheets took most of the color; red as his hair.

Sutcliff must have bled _gallons_ by the amount of towels it took to wipe most of the blood off. It baffled William, but he continued to snatch towels regardless until he rested in an acceptable state of _clean_. Blame his obsessive compulsive tick.

He was still unbearably pale, but his pulse didn't waver anymore. And that meant he wasn't in danger of losing his life any time soon.

Sebastian, who was also untreated, kept watch at the door of the medical wing, just in case a shinigami pecked by a corner. Well, '_watch'_ wasn't the appropriate word. His eyes might have been disabled, but his ears were as sharp as his talons. If a pin dropped a hundred feet away, he would hear it.

But then came a difficult part for William.

_Bandaging._

He needed both his arms for that task.

A sweat-and-blood covered glove reached up to wipe his forehead, smearing some in the act. William pondered his choices, but thought Grell's health better than his pride. Again.

"…Michaelis," he tentatively called, refusing to call the demon by his human-given name.

Sebastian didn't react at being called, but he leaned inside the room to show he had listened.

William waited for a moment to see if his options were really as degrading as he initially thought.

Yes, they still were.

"I need to bandage him," was all he revealed. The dispatch supervisor _refused _to directly, explicitly ask help from Sebastian. But the servant was smart. In a few seconds, he walked over to the other side of the bed and lifted the reaper carefully with one hand, stretching out the other in silent assistance.

Bloodying the bandages would prove counterproductive, so he shed them in a near waste basket and continued with his job. William's right hand gingerly offered the cream-colored bandages as he began unrolling them over the ghostly white abdomen, and Sebastian took it, silently, passing it around Grell's back and offering it in return.

They repeated the action dozens of times until the sleeping redhead's chest had been snugly covered, safe but not completely sound. During this time, neither spoke. The room fell to thick silence, interrupted only by the stretching sound of medical bandages over skin. It gave William the liberty to actually think about what had happened.

It all seemed so _surreal_ now that he did.

But he thought about the wound they wrapped, most of all.

Sebastian might not realize it, but Grell had been smart about his position. And he had told the demon the truth when he said William could have killed him. 'A deathscythe is a deathscythe'. A deep enough blow to the head could have rendered him incapable of fight; a precise enough one, _crippled_. If it wasn't for Grell's intervention, Sebastian would have suffered a greater wound than William might have, even if his intestinesended up hanging from his torso from the threatening claws that would have dug into him.

William would heal. Sebastian would not. Not from having his skull crushed.

Truer and simpler than that it could not have been.

And if it hadn't been for Grell facing him, he most probably would not have stopped. Such was the pleading look he wore that William would have stopped regardless. It almost _begged_ him to heed.

But…what would have happened then? If Grell never came between them in that instant?

Would he have landed the key blow to Sebastian? Would he have missed instead? Could he have lost, or…could he have won?

No one will ever know now.

Another quiet moment passed as he waited for the bandage to be returned to him. Yet it took another moment to realize they had used it all, looking down at the butler's palm softly rubbing circles over Grell's side. He must have been smoothening the end of the gauze while William drabbled on in his head.

Clearing his throat brought the demon's attention back towards him.

"He will heal. In time, Michaelis."

William did not know why he felt the need to say the words out loud, but it settled Sebastian's worry, and his own. Perhaps the reason he kept talking was to reassure himself, more than the demon.

He wasn't one to express himself to others, anyway. Yes, he's only voicing thoughts. _I must be_, was what William thought.

"Grell has always been a fast healer. Be it burns, bruises or scratches, his injuries have always healed extraordinarily well compared to the average dispatcher. I suppose it is because he _loves _bloodshed. He ends up fighting rogue demons more than necessary. Getting into trouble, and ending up with bruises…his body is accustomed, I derive…" William drew out the words as he gathered a clean white sheet to cover Grell with.

Sitting back down with a sigh, he continued, "He'll be back up in a few days' rest. Although his injury should take more than a week to completely heal. But he never listens…"

The only thing that told him Sebastian was listening was the slow nods he would give in return every few pauses. No sneers, frowns or wary glances came from either of them in the past minutes. The demon even sat at the other side of the bed calmly, reclining in his seat, with his eyes fully closed in pensive thought.

It seemed that a calm _did _come to pass after every storm. Or, better put, a mutual cease-fire to rebuild what was destroyed.

Then a tap against the seat made him wince, and William remembered his poor left arm's condition. The pain had simmered down to a dull throb, painless unless coming to contact with most anything.

The reaper regarded the long-ignored limb for a moment, before deciding to remove his wool coat and heal himself already. "I think it's time to fix this," William mumbled, once more, just to voice his thoughts. He wouldn't expect Sebastian to do anything, and he wouldn't want him to either. William had broken bones before. He knew what to do.

Now, taking off the piece of clothing was easier said than done.

William tried not to move the abused arm too much, since it sent an unpleasant jolt up his limb in warning. That most certainly wasn't good news. But he eventually did, tossing the coat at his seat's backrest and peeling the torn sleeve cotton bits off. His button-up shirt was also torn in his bloodied left sleeve and chest, and so decided to shed it alongside his tie.

He found that sliced stripes of the long-sleeved shirt stuck to his forearm's skin. It was saturated in blood in an unusual diagonal form. Not as bad as he thought removing, though, just troublesome with sharp pinches.

Once the task was done, he leaned back to further observed the damage.

Honestly, he'd seen worse –Grell being live proof–, but it was still high in the top of his list of personal battle injuries. From the middle of the forearm to his wrist, the arm had bent significantly to the right, with a small jutting point, quite likely his ulna bone, at the opposite side. _No wonder_ using his hand proved difficult _and _painful. The ulna bone had been snapped in two, maybe three sections and claw marks slivered in a curl around the limb, from where he was grabbed down to almost the middle of his palm.

He had long stopped bleeding, but the area was still raw and sensitive, beginning to seal up the cuts. The trail left a darker shade of skin. Dried blood caked where the demon's claws ran, and it frankly made the scratches look worse.

William cringed, only very minutely, seeing that his fingertips had taken a blue tint. It was serious damage indeed.

Firstly, he took one of the healing creams he had applied to Grell and ran it gently over his sealing wounds, and the cool feel he got in return startled him. It was…surprisingly pleasant. But, he couldn't wrap the limb in gauze until he had something to straighten the repairing bone cells.

William attempted looking for a plank, stick or board without standing, but there wasn't one in any of the nearby drawers. He _did _find rope, though. That would prove useful in the process.

It seemed he would have to look around for hard boards. Thankfully this was the main medical chamber, so there should be some, somewhere. Hopefully.

With a sigh and a last look at the still demon, he stood and searched the tables by the sterile white walls. For a few moments, there seemed to be no such boards, but plenty of shining utensils and an eerie amputation saw –just _the thought of it made him tense_–, and other things he's much rather not see.

Thankfully, there were a couple of rectangular boards at the end of the table, about two inches thick, and only a tad bit longer than his forearm. One would be enough.

Some minutes passed as the exhausted reaper sat again in his chair, board in hand. As he worked, stifling pained groans from maneuvering bandages around his arm, he would stare for a moment at Sebastian. The Phantomhive servant was being much too quiet. It was odd. Wary suspicion rose in him.

William shrugged. No matter. They were just ignoring each other, maybe. Hopefully.

_Gah!_ He hissed painfully when he tightened the gauzes too much in his distraction.

_Right, _William thought with frustration, _Mending_.

It wasn't long before his arm lay wrapped in bandages and he started tying the rope around the board and his left arm. During this process he also noticed the smaller claw marks at his chest and slight purple bruising in a rib. It might have been from when Sebastian pushed him against the wall and winded him. The demon got a torn throat in return, though.

_Fair enough. Eye for an eye._

By the time he finished treating his injuries –warmly wrapped chest and arm, some pads in bruised places–, nearly an hour had passed. And Sebastian hadn't moved from his seat, not made a hair-width's move to mend his own wounds, or lick them. Whatever it was that demons did.

_Was he being stubborn, or polite?_

Or, William reconsidered, perhaps Sebastian simply couldn't do anything about his wounds because of his current blindness. Could that be it? It _would _be hard to find medication in the first place, no? Did…did that mean _he _had to help the hellion now? Oh, just _great_…

Then again, Sebastian had helped him enough, so common courtesy foretold he should, at least, return the favor.

It was a long, questionable time before the reaper thought to ask as impartial as possible, "Do you need my help with…anything?"

Sebastian shifted in his seat for a second before tentatively blinking, slowly, and demonstrating that his vermillion eyes had reshaped and reformed while William treated himself. They were bloodshot though, and he squinted around with a furrowed brow, as if it pained to see. Undoubtedly, it must.

The blood-coated demon glanced at William opposite to him with a tired look. "Only with your scythe's wounds," he rasped out lowly, which caught William's attention.

Ah, yes. Speech must irritate that burning, scratched up throat he has. _He might like the cooling cream then, _the bandaged reaper bitterly thought.

Nonchalantly, and betraying any hate present inside him, William offered a new roll of gauze from the cabinets and that pleasant ointment bottle, which the demon took gladly with a scowl.

Sebastian was inwardly grateful though. Never would he show it.

He began applying the cream, and found with a surprise that it didn't sting over his open, still-bleeding throat. Then again, it was medication for shinigami, and they wielded their scythes all too casually. Accidents were bound to happen.

Sebastian pondered over pocketing a bottle before he left, but decided against it. He was a Phantomhive's butler, and what kind of Phantomhive _stole_ from civil hosts? Mr. Spears had been kind enough to present him with medication despite having no obligation to do so. No, he would not take some for himself. Just for his wounds.

He found part of his button shirt's collar in the way as he applied the cream, and so undid his black tie and the top buttons of the blood stained shirt. With eyes still fresh and healing, he glanced to the sitting reaper warily.

The demon had heard a shuffle of clothes while he had been sightless, but never did he expect that it had been William unclothing himself. What had given the reaper the confidence, the sense of protection and safety, to do so in front of an enemy? Or did he not consider Sebastian capable of striking down someone while they healed?

The gauze-wrapped torso had caught his attention from the thought. He didn't remember doing too much damage in that area. The arm, though, was predictably mended with what appeared to be an aiding crutch. With pride at the wound he'd caused, Sebastian gave a small smirk, but the muscles twitched in pain from the action. Thankfully less painful on account of the cream.

Collar loose and open far enough for him to treat every part of the wound, Sebastian began to unwrap the bandages and place them around his pale neck. He wrapped slowly, mindful of the could-be broken left hand, and mindful not to turn his neck in any direction.

The following minutes were spent in silence, once more, as Sebastian studied his hand for a short moment. Though he thought it had been quiet enough around them. Besides, right now the deafening silence was unsettling.

Sebastian twitched his forefinger and found that it could not move no matter how much he tried.

"We are both idiots, aren't we?"

William raised his sight from the bed to regard the man on the other side. "Looking at the situation…yes, I would agree with you," he said in that stern voice everyone knew him for, but quieter.

Satisfied with their verbal agreement, Sebastian returned his attention to his hand with a frown. It seemed his fingers hadn't suffered much damage, but his palm did. Being caught between the pruning blades of a deathscythe served brilliant to impair every digit while not harming them. How interesting.

From the looks of it, every metacarpal and carpal bone, _every single one_, was either broken or fractured, yet he didn't feel a sting or a burn, just numbness. Coupled with the torn skin and muscles that would otherwise be called a palm, his hand was practically a useless live nerve, giving him a hot sensation that sprouted from his wrist.

He gave William his due credit with raised eyebrows. Breaking bones and not have the wounded recognize it? That was not an easy task to do, or fix. But he had to. It was the hand that bore his Faustian contract, and leaving the wound be would worsen its state, and eventually temporarily null his contract. It would leave his meal open for the taking.

As Sebastian fumbled with applying some of that heavenly cream, he looked over to where the conscious brunette sat. There was still something he needed to say, but…was it alright to talk to a sworn enemy?

Perhaps it was…while they remained neutral. He had far too many reasons _not _to talk to William, but he had been, until now. Well, no, he had either hissed out words meant to irritate, or answered questions directed towards him. Even when William talked to him about Grell some time ago, which piqued his hidden interest in the redhead's life, he remained still and quiet.

Sebastian guarded himself and stayed alert, because, why shouldn't he? Why _should _he trust him when he was a demon-slayer?

But then, he gave Grell that benefit, and he was a dispatcher. Quite the vivid one.

_Should he?_

Perhaps, while their newfound neutrality lingered around the air, he could. This once.

And after a few minutes of mulling it over, for the first time that night, Sebastian lowered his guard. He could trust the man not to attack him while he treated himself, as William did.

"I never meant for it to go this far," the demon said lowly, flinching only slightly at the oil's cool touch. The cold bit at his skin instead of simmering the pain down as it did to his neck.

William glanced over the sleeping victim, letting his gaze fall short of the red eyes across him. "Neither did I," he honestly voiced, "But I suppose our nature got the best of us. Our _primal _nature."

"Jealousy," Sebastian realized in a short time, "I'm surprised you were that type of man, Mr. Spears."

He couldn't help the grin overrunning his features, even with the slight dulled protest of healing muscles and flesh.

William saw the grin and frowned hard in return, "I'm surprised you could love _at all_, dem–…Michaelis."

One slim raven-black eyebrow rose in puzzlement. Was the reaper trying to have a sound, civilized conversation with him? Without biting remarks or sneers?

_Kinship, what an unattractive thought. _

"So am I, Spears," he offered quietly as a response, and returned his attention to his heavily-damaged hand. Bandaging was becoming a difficult task to complete with only one hand and no strength in his jaw to bite the gauze, but he would finish it altogether. "Now, we really should stop this quarrelling, lest we want to end up fighting again. If it took a severe injury to snap us back to reality, I wouldn't want to find out what _would_ have happened if we finished."

That seemed to have caught all of William's attention, as he turned to glare wordlessly at the mending demon's form. He stiffly noticed the poor job Sebastian was doing, dressing the wounded appendage.

"I won't allow that," was a curt promise. His gaze lowered once more to the demon's hand, and began fidgeting with his thumbs as he watched, slip after slip, the persisting handling of gauze. Part of him, that perfectionist obsessive-compulsive side, twitched every time a gape was left between two layers of bandages, with every little _wrong_ detail _no, you don't tighten it like that__–__the skin will break and bleed again__–__stop rolling over empty spaces, you cretin__— _"_Honestly_, without your little human master around, you're just as uncivilized as the rest of your kind…"

Sebastian was surprised by the tight-sounding outburst and looked up from where he was trying to wrap, and fail, his left hand. But he was even _more _surprised when William promptly took the bandages from him–_when did he__–_, pulled up a chair from another corner and sat beside him, with distaste blaringly obvious in his spectacled eyes.

His wrist was roughly pulled out of the space it belonged in and securely held while another, less apt, bandaged and likely numbed hand undressed part of the bandaging and redressed it perfectly. Sebastian scowled, to portray the surprise and indignation present in him, "I thought you would never degrade yourself so low as to tend to a demon's wounds."

And while the comment was said hissing and spitting acid, Sebastian wasn't angry. He felt a strong blow to his pride, but not anger.

He was actually, kind of, perhaps, grateful for the help.

Insulted, but grateful.

"Shut it," came the rigid answer.

William wasn't in any kind of mood to start a fight. He just wanted the day to end, sleep for twelve hours, see Grell wake after a good rest before absolutely _murdering _him, and for the hell-raised creature to _go away_. Mending the demon's damned wound would accelerate the process so that they could go back to snipping each other's heads off another day.

Yet, he bitterly thought as he dressed the blood-matted fingers –_really, why couldn't Michaelis have _cleaned_ the wound?_–, that the determination he saw in the demon as they fought, and even afterwards when he just simply gouged his eyes because _Grell didn't want him to see his tears… _That simple, daring and _utterly_ _raw _determination was _very_ _real. _

He respected the demon–Sebastian Michaelis.

And William saw what he challenged to see in him, when he decided to begin the fight.

Above the bloodlust, the pure hate and delirious instinct, he saw passion, desire and profound _love_. All of it, only for Grell.

William was stricken with a sense of responsibility over his injured enemy—his _rival._

_Oh Grell… You are capable of the most impossible things. _

Giving a last tug, one fully-mended demon hand ripped out of his grip faster than a cobra.

He would have barked out something about ingrates and hellions, but exhaustion was beginning to settle. William shook off the retort hanging by the tip of his tongue and instead, sighed sorely.

"Thank you for your unwelcomed help," red eyes gleamed at him with hidden contempt. The demon then took a small gauze pad and plainly affixed it to his right temple, where he'd been jabbed at with the scythe. The spot was no longer bleeding, but the area was well bruised and blotted purple blues. A sound hit.

Without further wait, Sebastian stood from his chair and smoothly walked back to the door without a word.

It was then that a heavy lasting silence landed in the room, interrupted only a second by an abrupt sigh. William wasn't one to carry on a conversation when it was so verily unwanted, so he remained seated in his place, by Grell's unconscious form.

He would have to return the chairs to their original places, of course, but right now, William was _tired_. The entire day's venture weighed on him ten-fold, but he couldn't rest yet. He simply won't allow it.

Staring down at the light dozing body before him, he thought long and hard on the day's journey.

After all, Grell trusted him to make the right choice. He had not started a fight because of meaningless jealousy. It was a factor, but he had his true reasons.

Time passed, perhaps hours, perhaps only minutes. Seconds shared in quiet rest, almost in an eternal trance.

Will the sun ever rise again?

_Yes, it will. Like it does every day._

"Grell Sutcliff, you infuriating _buffoon_," came his agitated whisper, but it had no real heat to it. Nor did William show any anger, not as he smoothed down the crisp sheets cradling Grell, "When will you stop getting yourself into trouble?"

For just a moment, an instant, it felt like any other time when Grell got into a tight situation, and came back worse for wear. Like when he fell down a building top, or when he tripped in a burning tower, or when he had the _gall _to play around with demons stealing souls.

It felt normal. For just a moment.

"Grell," he said, low as the cold summer wind. Piercing emerald eyes looked down to blood-stained sheets, over red tangled tresses rounding the pale sleeping face of one rambunctious reaper. William dared to smile in the darkness of the room. "Thank you." A bare hand came to rest over Grell's own, giving a light squeeze. He paused, to swallow and rearrange his thoughts. "You made it in time to stop me."

A softer tone was given then, and green eyes fell to the resting redhead's lap.

"But I was too late to stop _you_, wasn't I?" William laughed breathlessly without humor. "You wouldn't have stopped anyway. That's fine. I'll forgive you this time. But only this once. No second chances."

He paused, and gripped harder at the delicate fingers in his hold.

"Don't _ever _scare me like that again, you dunce. You don't get to suffer an injury like that again, _do you hear me?"_

There was no answer, only the soft sound of even William would know his answer. A bat of lashes and a well-rehearsed _yessir_,but no real promise. Because nothing could possibly stop Grell from doing what he thought was right. Nothing could ever stop him from doing what he so desperately believed to be necessary.

In a way, it was a relief, because who was Grell, but a follower of his own rules?

So yes, if he needed to, Grell would get right between an outstretched deadly strike just to save his lovers' asses. And he did, not a couple of hours ago.

And William learned two very important things because of that. He learned what he would have never known if he'd just chosen Grell his lover.

Sebastian's true feelings, and Grell's truest feelings.

Because in blood and suffering, one can't lie.

The hand between his fingers warmed from his unyielding touch, and a light, unabashed snore left ample parted rosy lips.

_I'll do the right thing, Grell. I promise._

* * *

><p><em>AN: Gods, I finally finished this chapter after so long! Hmm, and I couldn't fulfill my self-promise of updating by May… :(_

_I myself felt squeamish writing this (well, one part). It's probably the smallest thing, compared to everything else. Sebastian's…eye moment. But that's because I imagined it for the longest time, and then some more when I wrote it. No problem whatsoever with everything else. Just the eyes…the _eyes_alone_. _*shudders*_

_Please haunt me with reviews so I will never again take so long. Six months…no, never again…_


	15. Kindred Feelings

Time never moved so slowly before.

Whatever eternity he was trapped in now promised morning was far ahead. He knew because of the moon, distorted as it was through the realm, but it still loomed above in the dark night sky. It seemed that the white crescent jewel was a calming presence, no matter what realm it resided in. Or, so Sebastian pleasantly felt.

His fresh ruby eyes burned a slight bit from the moonlight if he focused for too long. But the burn was welcomed. It kept him awake despite his body being far-spent and tired. It grounded him where he was and who he was with.

Being a demon inside the Shinigami Realm proved to be a short but fine experience, if it wasn't for the cause of his momentary stay. It would only be until sunrise of course, but he would most likely never see the land here ever again with his own two eyes.

If he was to describe it with one word, it would be 'white'.

White walls, white pillars, white floors, pathways, stone paths, gates, doors, everything was white and pale.

No matter where he looked, there was a blank essence to everything, yet nothing felt empty, just _white_. _Void._

To his demonic eyes, it was highly unsettling. Though Sebastian grew and lived in a world of dark, venomous and egregious colors, it wasn't the stark difference that shocked his senses. Even the human world had its share of cluttered and empty spaces. Mixture of bodies, people, colors and minerals. This…this was too sterile and controlled for his tastes. He liked the possibility of disorder existing.

_The Land of the Dead lives up to its name_, he thought with marvel.

What better place for stillness and lifelessness than that of a Grim Reaper's?

_Grell must hate it. _

"Mr. Michaelis," William had called lowly, not far from the Sebastian's post at the door. He only turned in recognition at his surname and raised one brow high. "Mind if I have a word with you," the reaper stated more than questioned him, which was almost enough for him to scoff at, but he maintained his placid look as he saw William look back at the occupied bed, "Outside?"

This time, the demon turned fully to face William. "Outside? Should one of us not stay here and watch over Grell, in case he wakes?" he said with a tone that hinted at 'irk'.

The tone was enough to make the bandaged man frown, "He won't wake until noon," he offered in return. But William could see the doubt in Sebastian's still-raised brow. "And it is important."

Sebastian was about to argue, refusing to leave Grell alone while he rested and healed the brunt of the damage he caused, but something in the reaper's eyes urged him to listen. Whatever it was that William felt they needed to discuss was not an option, but an order.

But Sebastian did not take orders kindly from anyone, only from his contracted souls. He was smart enough not to protest, but the rebellious and dominating side of him refused to move from the door.

William only rolled his eyes with unhidden annoyance and pushed past him through the door. To the demon's utter surprise, and repugnance, he was grabbed by an arm and yanked out the way with the reaper. Bitter anger filled him suddenly as he forced his limb back to his side with a pull. Sebastian stepped back more into the hallway with a low hiss, in warning for the reaper to _keep to himself_.

"It involves Grell," William shushed in return just as fiercely, pulling his bad arm back to shield from any lash. It was still badly injured and a hard enough hit would deprive him of progress.

Taking another step back for measure, Sebastian straightened and willed himself under presentable control, not taking his darkened eyes off of his allied-enemy.

It was unlike him to fall victim to his emotions, and there were so many he had fallen to in the past days, but Grell had changed that. He no longer has that perfect, detached persona.

His master had taught him that it was fine to be flawed, just as long as no one saw it.

And Ciel would know, as a human once ripped of everything he loved and tossed into a pit of hopeless anguish to rot. The boy knew he was weak, but no one saw his weakness. He showed to the world how strong he was instead, how nothing could possibly stop him from doing the impossible.

Sebastian could do that too.

He could go out to the world, bare and vulnerable for Grell, and lose himself to his rage, guilt, fury and unease. And he could stop for a second after and settle his discord down. Down to joyless harmony.

Control.

He just needed to control his furious outbursts. The demon could still be the perfect and flawless being everyone saw. Only not so detached.

Scarlet pupils glared with brilliance as Sebastian fully straightened with a paused quirk of lips. It had only been a few seconds, three at most, but his thoughts were beginning to clear.

"Grell? You mean to discuss him?" he spoke with a slightly furrowed brow.

William, patient in his step and careful of what he spoke, shook his head, "Not discuss. Just follow me for a minute."

Sebastian stared for a moment, unwilling to follow but curious of what could the reaper wish to tell him. He gave one last look at the medical wing's door, before nodding once and deciding against his instincts.

He stepped forward and walked a short distance behind William, who already began to trot away after seeing the demon agree. They continued for only a minute or two, not a far ways away from Grell, but enough.

It was the same hallway, only at a wider part of the floor's design, where the moon could shine over the walls and cast a blue gray light through ceiling-reaching, frameless windows.

William stopped, leaning a hip on the cool crystal. He ran a hand softly over the bandaged limb, almost protectively. He tapped a ghost finger on the covered makeshift cast.

The demon kept his silence as he waited for whatever would be told. He noticed that William was watching him cautiously.

What the reaper said threw him completely off.

"You know, it pains me to say that we are actually alike."

Sebastian wasn't expecting some notion of personal symmetry.

_Alike? _Was the man _mad?_ "I thought you were going to talk about Grell, not torture me with rubbish," he said with much chagrin.

William's lips quirked into a frown. "Soon. I'll get to him if you play along."

He almost snapped back that he wasn't some _pet_ that barked for a bone, but he got himself into this position by following the man. Perhaps he could turn this is him favor, though, and instead remain precariously smiling and patronize the man. Go with a sickeningly sweet _Yes, you're right, I hadn't noticed. Do you want to clue me in? _Sebastian rather went with the sarcastic flavor in his tongue."How, pray tell, are we similar? Please, _indulge_ with your great knowledge."

The scowl adorning the reaper's face was a small victory. And his tone turned icy.

"_Thank you_ for the permission," came dripped in equal sarcasm, "In the last few days, I tried to reason why Grell would fall in love with the _both _of us, if we are so different. It occurred to me that we are, in fact, not that different at all."

Sebastian's bitter-kept smile twitched but kept its shape. "I don't look like you, if that's what you are insinuating."

"Don't even _joke _about that," William grimaced with obvious distaste. "We look _nothing_ alike."

"Then _what?_"

William drew a breath and eased his building rage. _Patience_, he chided himself, _and maybe this will end well_.

"You _corral_ souls for a living. That is initially the only meaning to your life, I presume? My afterlife's dedication is to my work also." He waited precisely three seconds to see if the demon would fight against his presumption with a snarl or something similar. He didn't. William took it as a sign to continue listing, "You hate being weak, and so do I. You hate fraternizing, and _so_ _do_ _I. _And I'm almost _completely_ certain you are not a fan of feelings, whether they be yours or others."

There was a catch to that last one. William really only thought Sebastian felt hostile against emotions because they insinuate understanding and sympathy. _Feeling _was a two-way line. If someone felt for you, _you_ felt for _them_. If you didn't, you would neither feel guilty nor joy. Just a blank face pretending and playing along.

It was, truly, just describing himself. He didn't socialize just because he was _shy. _William didn't know how to feel for others, nor did he understand their origins when it came from others. He was all professionalism and functionality.

He was the ideal shinigami.

And Sebastian was the ideal demon.

"No," the demon said, staring out the window into the summer's eve, "I'm not fond of emotions."

"Thought as much," the reaper grumbled with a half-smile.

Sebastian spared a look at the half-clothed man bearing gauze and an odd smile. He didn't find it offending, oddly. "Do you hate changing too?"

William actually looked surprised enough to stare back at the demon, "With my _soul_."

"Something else we can agree on then."

"And Grell managed to change all that just being himself," the reaper said and saw Sebastian nod minutely in repressed agreement just outside of his sight.

"_Wonderful_," Sebastian wrung out with a sardonic glance at his company. "Something else we have in common. Grell."

William nodded. "Yes, Grell." He could see where the demon was leading him on. _Honestly, he has no patience_.

"Now what is it that you want to talk about him? I'm not up for games today—tonight?"

Was it _still_ tonight? A quick look out the window showed the land was dark and covered in moonlight, but the sky was not the familiar navy blue. Daylight was creeping by the horizon and staining the atmosphere a deep indigo. But the sun was still too far.

William paused with him and took in the sight of his land with darkened green eyes. He didn't ponder long about the night and his lack of sleep –other than his weary muscles and heavy head–, and instead worked on what he felt he should say about his redheaded companion.

There were some things that shouldn't stay in the dark. But digging them out of his memory hurt more than explaining them.

He took a long whiff of cool air and released it not a moment later.

Sebastian, seeming to remember his query, returned his attention to the jaded reaper.

He took another breath and felt his lungs hot and heavier than lead. No better than before.

"We aren't the first ones to trample on his feelings," William started hesitantly. No immediate answer or question was given, so William thought to continue it all in one go. Get it all out. "There was a man, once, named Cassius. He wasn't very—very _sane_. I think that's important to say, at least. Many dispatch officers eventually lose part of their sanity, you see. It's quite normal on the job. But this was not normal. It just seemed that Cassius had been…_made_ wrong."

"'_Made'_ wrong?" he repeated, and gained a stiff nod in return. Sebastian had learned about reapers in his life, and especially in the past month. Many sources and perspectives provided him knowledge. And long ago, he guessed that a shinigami, despite their technical and systematic lives, was a human soul turned to immortality, to manage the other fallen souls.

It sounded more like William meant _mold _and not _made_.

"Yes, _made _wrong. Whatever recruit process had been done with him might have damaged his mind. Or perhaps his mind had already been damaged from the start." Sebastian was confused now. So an ill soul molded into a reaper, made an ill reaper? Or, a poorly conceived reaper, in whatever process this _recruiting _was, ended up ill? He would ask later. William carried on with his tale, and he had no time to ask questions. He shifted his weight on his feet solemnly, jittery.

"This man, at first, I trusted," William said and looked away to the wall, "He would watch over Grell when I wasn't around, and Grell had taken a liking to him."

"Watch over him?" Sebastian chose to ask, to urge him on.

William frowned none too kindly but did not move his gaze from the far wall. "Grell is…_different_. Different here means _wrong_. It means you don't belong. And it didn't help that Grell was _very _different. I was his only friend for a very long time," he shook his head for a second, "Well, Cassius was his friend once, though I question it, and I didn't need to look after Grell or worry as much for him. That was my mistake."

Even with the slight pain biting at his arm, William tightened his bandaged fist with rising anger. He'll never forget those months Grell shivered at every touch with fear. And he'll never stop blaming _Casey _for it.

"That…_boy _was a monster," he hissed raggedly, with a dangerous glint in his eyes, "He broke him—Grell. He broke Grell and he _enjoyed it._"

"_Broke?_"

William hesitated for a split second, too caught up in the memory to talk. But before he regretted starting this, he spilled it all out into the world. Like blood in his veins spreading a disease. Like _vomit. _ "He used him, he silenced, beat and _fucked__—__" _

He froze, chilled and halting the words before more could come out doused in grief and hate and _pain__—_

"He just…broke him, Michaelis."

That was what happened. That was the bitter truth.

William found himself silently grateful Sebastian questioned no more.

They shared the silence, until the story picked up from where it was left. It had to. He couldn't stop there.

"It came to a point where Grell disappeared for weeks, and no one took notice of it," William continued grimly. "Not even worried, not a glance. Not even spare a _thought_." A change in the wind blew cold against his hot face, hot he realized, not just from the turmoil the memory brought, but also the sheer exertion of keeping the memory alive and fresh to tell Sebastian. "Grell…took too much. It had been too long, before I came to…find him. I should say rescue, I suppose.

"Cassius had tied him to a bed for his own amusement. After a medical analysis, he was 'institutionalized' in return." Institutionalized. A pretty word for put in one of those nut houses, until he deteriorated far enough to be 'decommissioned'.

Gone. He had been gone for decades. How many? Seven, eight? Too many to bother anymore.

He just knew it had been thirty eight years since Cassius was decommissioned. Broken down to a cinematic record and stored.

William didn't want to know how it was done either. He was just glad Grell no longer had a solid reason to fear that man's shadow in his mind.

Only memories and nightmares.

"Then…then Grell took months to return back to his old self. But never truly. He grew cautious and wary, stronger, and…and then _carefree_. Sometimes, it's like he doesn't care anymore. Sometimes he cares _too much_."

_Sometimes he doesn't know if it's alright to keep living. _But that almost never happened. That was the lowest Grell has gone, and William has been lucky enough to find Grell every time before it was too late.

"I won't do that to him—"

"I'm not saying you are," William cut in, "I just thought…you would have wanted to know something like that."

"I do." He really, _truly _did. He would show his gratefulness more if it wasn't for his stubborn pride. Perhaps that made him sound a bit bitter too. "But what's the point if I can't do anything about it but _know?_"

He hadn't expected the bone-chilling glare William gave him right then and there.

"You prevent it from happening again."

Sebastian didn't say anything after that for a long, stretched out moment. He offered instead what the reaper would have liked in return. No words, just a settling, understanding silence.

And for some unfathomable reason, the demon felt like an _ass_. William was willingly trying to socialize and fraternize with him, and Sebastian couldn't completely reciprocate. It just felt too unnatural.

But he could appreciate it. There was too much he appreciated right now, so much he didn't know what _else_ to feel but gratefulness.

"Thank you," he offered sincerely. It was all he could do in return. "Will you…tell me more of him?"

"Only if you promise not to interrupt as much," he said mindfully, extending his good hand for a solid truce. It spoke more than words would.

William did not shake hands with demons.

He shook hands with men of honor.

Sebastian took the hand in a strong grip and shook it once. "Deal."

"Well," he sighed with an afterthought. Really, Grell has done too many things to keep count of, and where to start?

_Ah, maybe something long passed._

And with his decision made, he nodded languidly.

"There was this one brat, Banter. He wasn't very bright, and he picked the wrong enemies. The definition of an arse, really. You should see the beatings he got from Grell, quite the interesting handiwork…"

* * *

><p>Far from their newly formed company, something dark slithers into the healer's dwelling.<p>

There's haziness, building heaviness, an inexplicable pressure in his stomach. The healing body heard someone walking closer in his clouded sleep, but it was too quiet to stir and wake him.

He only felt its presence looming closer, yet felt no one.

Whoever, or whatever it is, stopped before him. Grell almost sensed a smile burrowed in his mind, not his. Something crawling into his mind and keeping him asleep.

_It is rather unfortunate we meet like this, my lady. _

Something, scaly in touch, slithered a soft touch to him, and a small drop of anxiety and fear build in him.

_Shshh, I won't hurt you, darling. You're injured enough… _There's almost concern laced to the words, but the sweet honey dripping from the words was poisoned rancid. It was not real concern or worry. _I'm so sorry this happened to you, dear. I'm not happy at all. _

A chilled hand gripped him, and he could tell from the touch it was a _real_ hand grasping his body. Fear spiked and formed in his numbed sleep, and another _shush_ penetrated into his unconsciousness.

"_Who are you?" _He asked with trepidation to the voice floating in his head, but he heard no answer.

The cold hand turns warm and lingered softly, willing him to continue resting.

The haze lifted ever so slowly, lulling, and there was no more voice, but a peculiar warmth settled in his bones.

He dreams of pitch black hair, and deep blue eyes.

A sneer is the last he hears before falling to heavy sleep again.

* * *

><p>"…And he actually <em>fell<em> from the bridge?"

"Right into the Thames."

Sebastian couldn't help the slight humor creeping into his voice, nor the surprise. "In _Winter?_"

William shrugged. "The soul dragged his scythe with it," he said with a wave of his hand. "Grell could never leave it there. He loves it too much."

A bold thin eyebrow rose in question, "Enough to fall into a _freezing river_ in the middle of the night I see."

Really, Sebastian had no clue the lithe redhead loved his chainsaw so much to fall into a _freezing river_ to felt it back.

"At least it wasn't frozen _yet._"

Recalling the memory wasn't as bad as the reaper thought. He had found Grell's antics foolish at times, but some were silly enough to make him crack a smile. This one was a fine example.

"It's the _Thames River!_" Sebastian said with measured bewilderment. "Frozen or not, it is still ridiculous!"

"Of _course _it is. I never said it _wasn't_," William breathed with displeasure, but there wasn't any heat in his words. He didn't feel bothered telling the story. It was actually…refreshing to remember it this way. There was someone other than himself who found Grell's personality charming, odd and impulsive as it was. And he didn't mind that it was a demon anymore.

It was nice.

A soft breeze swept over the hall and beat coolly over his dark hair. Nerves he didn't even know were tense loosened, and the mere _feel _of it brought him back to the past week.

Since the last time he spoke alone with Grell, since he had his attack and ailed Grell in his anxious fit, William had taken a short leave from work. And as incredible as it was for a nurse to have the _pleasure _of practically forcing him to house arrest, he really needed the time to relax.

The problem was that giving a man of work nothing to do but thinkonly gave him _more_ problems.

The head nurse had told him strictly that his health was not faring well, for many reasons. Working for so long without any breaks or vacation, and not doing anything about muscle knots would leave him in fatigue easier. And coupled with the weight of his personal situation –which he did _not _explain nor said it was related to Grell's absence–, trapped with papers for hours and disciplining the dispatchers, _"I'm surprised you didn't have an anxiety attack earlier, Mr. Spears." _So, with an order to take rest and unwind, he took a 'sick leave'.

Worse than that was glancing at every corner of his loft and seeing _Grell_.

On the sofa, reading a book, dashing into the kitchen, _laughing_. Little memories where Grell came over, over the years, and more over the past month.

So it was no surprise that he preferred London over depression. It was how he ran up to Sebastian the day before.

And even a few hours ago, he never imagined being able to have a civilized conversation with the beast. Much less an _enjoyable _one_._

William looked over to said 'beast', who was looking out the wide windows to the pink horizon.

The sun was finally rising.

"You know. I would never in my life have guessed that talking with a demon would be pleasant."

Sebastian glanced over to the reaper with a mild start. He smiled, not as bitterly as he thought. "Neither did I think _you _would be pleasant company."

"It is just unfortunate Grell had to get injured for it to happen," William grumbled laying a hand soothingly over his downed arm. The bones weren't finished mending, but the skin was healed and slightly tender. He would still need the bandaged wooden cast for another ten hours.

"I am sorry for that, truly," Sebastian offered, and not just meaning Grell. He was still proud of the broken arm he caused, though. Shinigami were tough creatures.

William bristled inwardly. "I'm not the one you need to apologize to. And you're not forgiven."

He turned to see the brightening sky, and mulled over something the demon could not guess. The reaper seemed to think better of what to say, but Sebastian didn't have the time to interrupt his thoughts. William said it anyway. "I expect for him to shrug it off and forgive the whole debacle. He would only remember and use it against you when he wants something."

Twin brows flew up in answer, "And he should."

William gave the man a strong look, "You will regret ever saying that. Trust me."

"Is it odd that I do?"

Yes, he wanted to say, because when has a demon ever trusted a shinigami? When have their kind ever breathed the same air in peace? If such a time existed, no one knew, or cared. It was difficult to simply imagine a world where trust between them would be possible.

"No, it is not," William said instead, because despite their blood nature, there was something worth trusting in Sebastian. Something that he himself didn't quite understand.

Something that maybe could only be earned after being forced to breathe the same air.

Sebastian nodded, feeling his decision to be right. Perhaps he wouldn't trust William with a great many deal of things, but he could trust him when it came to Grell. No one else could know the redheaded reaper more.

"Sebastian," he said, wavering in strength. There was one more thing he needed to say. He didn't know if he could. The demon laid a curious glance on him, listening.

"I think," William paused to take in a deep breath and steady his stance. He needed to be level, or, at the least appear level. He didn't know why, he just _needed_ to feel stable and determined, or words would fail him now. He _must_ be, even if only a little, like the fearless supervisor he was known to be.

"I think you should go to him."

Sebastian knew what that those words meant. Because a man like William didn't speak meaninglessly. He commanded a room with one look alone. Every word he uttered was worth saying, and worth listening to.

"Are you sure?" the demon asked with great seriousness.

For the reaper to say that, for him to _give_ Sebastian that choice, the choice of going to Grell, meant that he had as much voice in this as William. That was why he was sharing Grell's past with him. He was sharing years of experience, of troubles and changes, priceless memories Sebastian didn't have and would _never_ have, because he didn't see Grell grow, didn't see him suffer and heal, didn't see him _cry_.

There were so many things he could never know. And now he knew some of them. Some pieces of the puzzle that was Grell Sutcliff were in his hands.

But William was weary, heavy with the weight of the night's development. _Tired. _Tired of carrying so much responsibility. For he had the weight Grell's injury, the weight of guilt.

He had the weight of Grell's happiness in his shoulders.

It was a resignation deep in his voice. A passing of charge.

A silent question for commitment. A hushed, _Be there when he wakes. Take care of him. I know you can. I trust you._

Sebastian was speechless.

"Are you sure," he asked again, for it was just so surreal.

William took another deep breath and blew it out violently into the wind, keeping his arms at his sides, limp. His shoulders momentarily rose and sagged with the action, and then his eyes met red pupils evenly, with a flicker of memory, gone the next second.

"Sebastian, I know Grell more than I could _possibly_ feel comfortable with, he—…Grell will never stop loving either one of us, no matter what happens. It is who he is. He may move on, but he never forgets. _Ever_." He took another long breath and furrowed his brow with uneasiness, "But he _can't_ live in this limbo forever. Grell needs _one_ of us, and it can't be me," a bitter laugh left him, "The _Gods_ know how many chances I've ruined. A century is too long a time to start again," but no, that was a lie, and William knew it. But he couldn't say what he actually thought, that maybe a fresh start was all Grell needed.

"And you will take care of him. I know. I see it in you." Hidden in there, _You're not going to hurt him, ever. Not like I did, by ignoring him._

And Sebastian could hear it, the unmentioned plea. And he followed the wish wholeheartedly.

"I will. I promise," he said, and meant every word.

"Good," William nodded once, "Now go see him, so you may apologize."

* * *

><p>The hardest thing to do, William thought, was also the best solution.<p>

He had watched with grim hope as the demon ushered away back into the infirmary. He had taken his eyes off of the retreating figure, casted them upon the dawn and let his body fall numb.

He was so _tired_. And tomorrow was another day to be filled with explanations and carefully crafted lies, and most certainly no sleep, no food, and more aches and pains from his injuries no one must know about.

But most of all, it hurt to let Grell go.

_It hurt so much._

It hurt because it was the right thing to do. He was in safe hands, cruel as it was to call a demon's hands 'safe'. But terribly safe it was, for those hands were capable of _killing_ anyone and anything for the sake of someone dear.

_Safer and happier than he could have been with me_, he tried to tell himself, but it was another half-assed lie. A means to push his grief in another direction. It didn't work. It _never _worked.

But giving away his love didn't mean he would stop protecting Grell.

He just wouldn't do it because Grell was his most _beloved_, but because he was his most beloved _friend._

Neither one would ever put their feelings away. Neither one would forget those feelings or what they meant. It was impossible to ever stop loving someone. Time only made the heart grow weary.

And neither one of them would let their feelings die.

But there can be regrets.

_I would have liked to hold him one last time as a lover, one last date, one last night together…_

_I would have liked one last kiss, if nothing else mattered._

It was strange, William thought, how the sun was just rising, but his world looked a bit darker. A bit sadder.

For the first time in _years_, William wanted to cry.

Now, they would go back to how it all used to be, except he would not be ignorant. He would be more mindful, and more conscious. More aware of Grell's little words that weren't so little.

Yes. He could do that. And he could definitely treat Grell to a night in London, as friends, colleagues even. The sun had just climbed to a circle above the horizon when he promised himself he would, and the hallway was flooded with a light yellow glow, enough to blind him for a second.

They would be friends.

They _are _friends.

A small smile lifted the lone reaper's lips. His world wouldn't be so dark as long as Grell pranced around with a big grin on his face.

The sound of footsteps speeding towards him brought him back with a start, and glancing out toward the hall, confused, he caught Sebastian's tailcoats fluttering behind him violently.

Something was wrong, there wouldn't be a reason for the demon to return so soon in a hurry.

Fear crawled its way up his spine and the room suddenly felt cold.

Everything he has hoped of the future, bright as a new day, came crashing down to ashes.

Sebastian's pupils flared with unbounded anger and dread as he shouted with something deep and guttural in his throat, like a cornered animal.

"_He's gone!"_

* * *

><p><em>AN: This is a somewhat short chapter, but it's the precursor to the major plot that's hinted all over the place. The next chapter will be the beginning of the Second Part in this whole story. That's right, second. (You can kick me if you want now)_

_The prologue will be edited to have a tiny bit more information regarding the fanfic when I update the story. You'll read the summary of the second part in the next chapter also! _

_Prepare yourselves for what will happen! Shit will hit the fan!_


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